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BY MARTIN JOHNSON 


SAFARI 
LION 


THE GETTY CENTER LIBRARY 


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A LiseLepD ELEPHANT. 


It is a well-known legend that elephants are blind. I have not found them so. 
They do plod along as though half asleep much of the time; but this, I believe, is because 
they are so powerful, are secure from death at the claws of other beasts, and have 
grown careless with the centuries. When attacked by man they are as wide awake as 
anything that roams forest or jungle. 


| oe 
MARTIN JOHNSON 


With 66 Illustrations 


G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS 


New York — London 
Che Buickerbocker Press 


PHOTOG, 

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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 
I.—INTO THE BLUE. : . : : : 3 
IT.—Our RACE TO PARADISE ; : ; Stiga 
III.—WE Dic In . ; : : ; ; apa 
IV.—‘ LITTLE HALF-BROTHER OF THE ELEPHANTS” . 52 
V.—WATERHOLE THRILLS . : : : ie 
VI.—WILDERNESS FOLK ‘ : : 2 Rong 5! 
VII.—Our BAcKYARD CIRCUS : : : . 106 
VIII.—ATTACKED BY RHINOS . i ‘ ‘ adap 
[X.—THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT . 2 ; . 155 
X.—A DESERT NINCOMPOOP . : ‘ ; hae Ge 
XI.—A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES . : : -2 LOO 
XII.—My WiFrE HoLps THE GUN .. : ‘ eae 
XIII.—VIisiITorRS AND ILLNESS . H : y i 235 
X1V.—TANGANYIKA LIONS ; . : . eeOQ 
XV.—THE END OF THE TRAIL : ° . «270 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


A LIBELED ELEPHANT : : 4 . Frontispiece 

LAKE PARADISE : 2 ; : : : : 8 
TYPICAL COUNTRY SURROUNDING THE LAKE ; : 9 
ORYX ATA WATERHOLE . : ; raha de 
HiGH NOON ON THE SERENGETI PLAINS . : ern 
OsA TROUT FISHING IN A TYPICAL PooL . - e424 
No TROUBLE AT ALL ; : ; : ato); 
A MEMBER OF THE FAMILY : d : : aun og 
KALOWATT SICK IN BED . : : : : os tee 
Two USES FOR AUTOMOBILES IN AFRICA . : Saree 
A TypicaL NIGHT SCENE AT LAKE PARADISE . geo A 
A FLASH THAT BOOMERANGED . / : ; PaceAyT 
A CoRNER OF LAKE PARADISE . : ‘ : EAB 
Our First HoME aT LAKE PARADISE : : 7 9 49 
CARAVAN OF DROMEDARIES ; ; : : we 50 


MAKING CAMP IN THE ELEPHANT COUNTRY : Aa) 


Vil 


Vili ILLUSTRATIONS 


A HERMIT VISITS THE WATERHOLE . x : 


BoOcuLy, THE GREATEST OF ALL ELEPHANT TRACKERS . 


A STuDY IN SHADOWS : | : : j 
IN THE ATTITUDE OF AN ACCOMPLISHED SNEAK . 
A HYENA THAT JUMPED BEFORE HE LOOKED ‘ 
TOPI ON THE PLAINS OF NORTHWEST TANGANYIKA 
A BRAZEN MEMBER OF THE BEGGARS’ GUILD : 
ELEPHANTS ASLEEP AT NOON . . : ; 
MorE ELEPHANTS IN THE SAME REGION .-.. 
RESTING IN THE FIELD : ; : ‘ 
AT HoME ON SAFARI } : ‘ : ; 
OVERLOOKING THE KAISOOT DESERT . : ; 
A SCENE NEAR LAKE PARADISE , ' : 
NpDOROBO HUNTERS . : : : : : 


A LUMBWA WARRIOR 


A SLEEPY OLD ELEPHANT IN THE NORTHERN GAME 


RESERVE . : : : : ; , 
BEFORE THE CHARGE : ; ‘ ; ; 
“‘SWEET PoTATOES’’—A NIGHTLY VISITOR . : 
THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING A PERFECT LADY . 
A RHINO THAT CLAIMED THE RIGHT OF WAY : 


STOPPED BY OSA’s BULLET 


. 


FACING 
PAGE 


64. 
65 
80 
8I 
81 
86 
87 
96 
97 
104 
105 
112 
113 
120 


I2I 


128 
129 
136 
137 
144 
144 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A Forest RHINO ON THE PLAINS OUTSIDE LAKE 
PARADISE 


GIRAFFE ON THE SERENGETI PLAINS IN TANGANYIKA 


A MoTHER WITH ONE OF THE HARDEST JOBS IN THE 
WORLD ; ; : : : 


COMMON ZEBRA AT A CHOBE WATERHOLE . “ : 
LORDS OF THE WATERHOLE . ; f . 
GOING FOR A FREE RIDE . : : , : 

AN IMPROMPTU BATH ON THE NORTHERN FRONTIER 


Tuis LIONESS RETURNED Four TIMES TO BE PHOTO- 
GRAPHED. . > , : 2 : 


A LEOPARD THAT DESERVED His PICTURE . ‘ 
AN AFRICAN KILLER TAKES His Own PICTURE 

A DANGEROUS CUSTOMER . 

THE MopERN SHORT SKIRT IN NEW SURROUNDINGS 
LUMBWA DEBUTANTES UNDER A HANDICAP ; 

A FINE TYPE oF MERU 

A NECKLACE MADE OF ELEPHANTS’ TAILS . 

AT A STATION ON THE KENYA AND UGANDA RAILWAY 
SNow-CAPPED MT. KENYA AS SEEN FROM NANYUKI 
PHILIP PERCIVAL AND GEORGE EASTMAN TALK IT OVER 
Mr. DANIEL POMEROY WITH His IMPALLA 


WARRIOR AND LION SPEARED ON THE SERENGETI PLAINS 


e 


1X 


FACING 
PAGE 


145 
160 


I6I 
176 
177 
184 
185 


192 
193 
200 
201 
208 
209 
224 
225 
240 
241 
248 
249 
256 


: TRLUSTRATIONS = 


AFTER A LION SPEARING . ee 5 ie 
Just BEeForeE Our Most EXcITING ADv 
SURROUNDED By LUMBWA WARRIORS : ; : 
THE ETERNAL TRIANGLE IN A WILDE! NE! 
A DETAIL or My STRANGE EXPERIENCE \ 
Just BEFORE Bie PARADE . 
THREE OUTOF FIFTEEN... ee Lege 
STEALING A LITTLE THUNDER FROM A L UME 


pike) 


THE SONG OF TRIUMPH... 


SAFARI 


A SAGA OF THE AFRICAN BLUE 


CHAPTER I 
INTO THE BLUE 


IGHTEEN years ago I sold my small business 
and set out with Osa, my wife, to see the world. 
We sailed through the South Seas and explored the 
jungles of the Malay Peninsula. We now find our 
greatest happiness on the shores of our Lake Paradise 
home in British East Africa, hundreds of miles from 
civilization. Wild elephants and aboriginal natives 
are our nearest neighbors. 

We are really not very different from other people 
despite the strange course our life has taken. We 
love thrills; and we love home. And we want to be 
pretty comfortable in both. 

We have found Africa full of thrills. Wild ele- 
phants come right in and steal sweet potatoes out of 
our back yard up at the Lake. Silly ostriches dash 
madly across the trail when we are motoring. Rhinos 
tree us. Lions roar and hyenas cackle around our 
camps. 

Yet never was there a home happier than ours. 
There is no corner grocery store. The nearest 
telephone is five hundred miles away. But we have 

3 


4 SAFARI 


sunshine and laughter and flowers the year round. 
In a sense, we are King and Queen in our own right. 
At least we have that feeling up there in our little 
principality on the top of our mountain peak where 
lies our lake called Paradise. 

There are no frills to our régime. We dress to keep 
warm and eat to live. Simple pleasures stand out 
in their true values unsullied by the myriad artificial 
entertainments of civilization. Our diet is plain; 
our costume unadorned; we rise with the sun and 
labor while it lasts. As a result we find life more 
savory than ever it was amid the conveniences of 
hot hotels and traffic-jammed streets. 

Mrs. Johnson and I sailed from New York on 
December 1, 1923. Our objective was to film, more 
completely than it had ever been done before, a record 
of Africa’s fast vanishing wild life, in order that 
posterity might be able permanently to recall it as 
it had existed in its last and greatest stronghold. 

From England we took a ship down around the 
Cape, and brought our huge cargo of equipment 
safely ashore at the port of Mombasa, on the East 
African coast a few weeks later. From Mombasa 
we took the little trunk line railway more than 
three hundred miles northwest to Nairobi, the capital 
of Kenya Colony and the last civilized settlement 
before reaching the wilderness. Our stay in Nairobi 
was a brief but busy period. It was there that 


INTO THE BLUE 5 


we gathered our nearly two hundred porters and 
concentrated our mass of equipment. We had 
everything from sugar and pills to film, including 
big water tanks, hardware, flour, clothing, and a 
wide variety of other articles calculated to keep us 
independent for many months. 

When we left for Lake Paradise, which is close 
to the Abyssinian border and nearly five hundred 
miles due north, we ran into the rainy season. Our 
six motor cars were loaded to their guards. We 
made a brave effort to elude the rain by going on a 
short cut up to the northeast. But the elements beat 
us to it. Less than half way along an incredibie 
series of morasses as well as vicious rocky trails 
forced us to turn back and try the older and longer 
route to the north. 

We left Nairobi at noon February 21st. On April 
12th, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, after innumerable 
hardships and adventures both with storms and wild 
beasts of every description we broke through the 
virgin forest and there was Lake Paradise right in 
front of us. 

Osa was so happy that she cried. 

Thick jungle closes it in. The lake lies in the 
crater of a dead volcano. At the moment of our 
arrival the sun glimmered on its blue surface. 
Thousands of birds twittered and called from the tree- 
tops around us as we rested from our toil. Down 


6 SAFARI 


near the water were heron and egrets, while out on 
the surface floated ducks of half a dozen species, 
divers and coots. The trees were laden with moss. 
Flowers grew profusely everywhere. Best of all, 
right there at our feet, lay the fresh spoor of wild 
elephants. 

Lake Paradise indeed! 

Because others will want to follow in our footsteps 
it is only fair to give more of the details of our voyage 
out. 

someone who had influence with the steamship 
company arranged a very pleasant surprise for us. 
We had secured a good first class cabin on the steamer 
from New York but had not even got settled when 
the purser came and said that he had been instructed 
to give us a suite. So the first thing we knew we 
found ourselves in five palatial rooms with all our 
own baggage. 

‘“‘T suppose we'll wake up any minute and find it 
isn’t true!”’ laughed Osa. 

Kalowatt, our Gibbon Ape, wandered from one 
room to another and was perfectly at home. She 
had been for long our constant companion, mentor 
and friend. We had run across her some years 
before in the interior of Borneo on a trip several 
hundred miles inland. On that occasion we travelled 
on a junk owned and captained by a Chinese widow, 
then by grass-roofed dugouts up the shallower 


INTO THE BLUE 7 


streams of the jungle. Finally we reached a miser- 
able little hut in a clearing in the jungle kept by a 
Eurasian and a Malay woman who looked even more 
dilapidated than their shanty. There on a chain, 
thin and spindling and half-starved, was Kalowatt, 
the cunningest little ball of fluff you ever saw in the 
world. Instantly my heart went out to her and so 
did Osa’s. We bargained for her, at last agreeing 
on a stiff price, six dollars Malay or three United 
States. At parting, the poor woman whose ribs 
showed on her torso like bars and whose back ran in 
raw welts, wept bitterly; that much must be said for 
her. We hated to take Kalowatt away, but in the 
end she would only have starved. As it was, with 
proper care she soon filled out and was forever up to 
the most cunning tricks. She would eat at our 
table, using a tiny fork; would swing from tree to tree 
when we were on safari; or ride with us in our car or 
on one of the donkeys’ or camels’ backs. Whenever 
we stopped, she raced up the nearest tree with the 
most graceful agile movements, and hurried back 
again when she heard the motor’s starting chug. 
And now, on our present trip to England, she found 
the steamer a fascinating new playground and kept us 
amused the whole way over. 

We were met at Southampton by the manager 
of the Lens Company looking after our twenty-one 
cameras. I use American cameras entirely, both 


“g SAFARI 


movie and still, but I make a specialty of having the 
best lenses money can buy. I still feel that no skin, 
head, book or other trophy of an explorer’s journey can 
measure up in importance with an artistically made 
photograph. All my lenses are ground to order and 
each one thoroughly tested before I pack it. 

Our reservations were in a small hotel that we 
usually patronize in London, and we were soon 
up to our necks in work, buying and packing the 
equipment that we still needed. I spent most of 
my time rushing about inspecting tents, beds, tables, 
water bottles, waterproof bags, and other equipment 
that was not available in Africa. I had found by 
experience that I needed bags that were really water- 
proof, beds larger than the usual little narrow cot, 
chairs that would not come to pieces in six months, 
and water bottles that would really hold water. And, 
above all, I wanted them made so that they would 


pack tight in loads of sixty pounds for our porters’ 


packs. : 

In the end we had a total of over 250 cases and 
crates containing tents, beds, tarpaulins, chairs, 
tables, ground cloths, waterproof bags, canvas, 
fishing rods, cameras, acids, developers, guns, revol- 
vers, rifles, and a thousand et ceteras it would take 
too long to mention. 


It was strange, too, when one considers that we 


had come to Africa to study her wild life in a free and 


LAKE PARADISE. 


This picture was made from my mud laboratory window. In the evenings and all 
through the night the shores of the Lake were—and are still—a meeting place for the wild 
forest game coming down to drink. 


‘SOUIA posure} oy} Aq yystdn prey a10M Oe save AuPeUI 
pelp pey yey} $901} P[Q =“ YSno1y} Yos AJoorvds p[noo 9M yey} VsSUSp OS SeUITJEUIOS BIO SsOM Ystuedg pu soul, 


‘aNVT GTHL ONIGNOOXNNS AYLNOOD TVOIMdAT 


INTO THE BLUE 9 


unmolested state, to go over the inventory of our 
arsenal. Wehad: 


3 English Blands—.470—double barrel 

1 English Bland—.275—Mannlicher action 

1 American Springfield—.303—Mauser action 

I English Rigby—.505—Mauser action 

3 American Winchesters—.405—lever action 

1 American Winchester—.32—lever action 

2 English Jeffries—.404—Mauser action 

1 American Winchester shotgun—.12—repeating 

1 American Parker—.12—double barrel 

1 American Ithaca—.20—double barrel 

1 American Ithaca—.20—sawed off shotgun, called 
riot gun 

1 .38 Colt revolver 

I .45 Colt revolver. 


But emergencies might arise in which we should 
need them. 

With everything boxed for shipment, gun licenses 
made out and all the other red tape fixed up, I spent 
two cold and miserable days at the Royal Albert 
docks getting my cargo aboard the S. S. Mantola 
of the British India Line. I had to let money flow 
like water in order to get my things stowed away in 
safety. My cameras and other delicate articles had 
to be carried carefully aboard and deposited in the 
baggage room where they would not be moved. 
My acids and movie film I had stowed in special 
moisture proof houses on deck. Incidentally, I 


10 SAFARI 


caught a bad cold at the work; and the night before 
we sailed I topped my misery off by getting ptomaine 
poisoning from eating mussels in a London res- 
taurant. 

We left London in low spirits. The fog and our 
fatigue combined to depress us. As the Mantola 
had no heat I was glad that I had left out enough of 
my own blankets. Even when some days later we 
reached Port Sudan which I had always considered 
the hottest city on earth, we still wore our overcoats. 

We dropped anchor at Aden for a few hours to take 
and deliver mail. At least half the native population 
came out with curios to sell. 

On January 26, a midsummer’s morning to be 
exact, we awoke in our berths to find ourselves no 
longer swaying with the midocean movements of the 
ship but lying almost stockstill. We glanced out of 
the porthole to find a harbor shimmering under 
waves of heat; big Arab dhows, high-pooped, open- 
waisted, vainly stretching their triangular brown 
sails for a capful of wind; a flotilla of row-boats all 
around us, their passengers halloaing to friends on 
our rail and eyeing the yellow quarantine flag, hoping 
that it would soon run down and so allow them on 
board. 

This was Kilindini, the port of Mombasa whose 
white fort and government buildings and stores rose 
out of the heat waves, a mile to the west, on the other 


INTO THE BLUE II 


side of the island. To some these sights of British 
East Africa would have been strange. But we were 
as glad to see them as any homeward bound traveller 
when first the Statue of Liberty looms up over him out 
of the Upper Bay. Some 330 miles by queer wood- 
burning trains to the Northwest and we should be 
at Nairobi. And five hundred miles more due north 
would bring us to Lake Paradise, that green spot in a 
vast wilderness which now we called home. 

If in the drowsiness induced by the heat and nine 
hours of slumber on Equatorial seas we had any 
doubt that we were nearing home, to reassure us 
there on a great flat-bottomed barge was Phishie, our 
old cook, come clear down from the Northern 
Frontier, with Mohammed, our watchman. Phishie 
was bravely rigged out in a new suit of khaki, in 
honor of the occasion; Mohammed still wore his 
kanzga or native mother hubbard. At sight of us, 
both their happy faces shone like black melons sud- 
denly split open to show rows of glistening white 
seeds. 

It took us but a few seconds to dress, a minute to 
swallow coffee and be examined. Then the yellow 
flag ran down and I was in the waist anxiously watch- 
ing the cranes lifting our freight down on the great 
barge which I had engaged by cable. 

Our luggage once on board the barge, we made for 
the wharf, docked, and took a Ford for Mombasa. 


12 SAFARI 


There were two distinct streams of travel for the 
town, one made up of jitneys, the other of rickshas. 
Like the currents of different ages, they ran on side 
by side. 

Mombasa is something of a metropolis, numbering 
about ten thousand souls, European white, Arab 
café au lait, swarthy half-caste, muddy-colored 
mongrel, and ink black. Once it resounded day and 
night to the whimpering of mothers torn from their 
children and the clanking of slave chains, for it was 
the great slave port of the Coast. Still can one see 
marks of conflict in the walls of its old white fort; 
and even now they often dig up skulls and rusted links 
buried in the sands. 

But quaint as Mombasa is, we had no mind to 
linger there. After a good shore dinner and a night’s 
sleep at a very modern hotel we left by train for 
Nairobi, to the northwest. The compartments of 
the train opened, English and Continental fashion, 
on the side. But what the original color of the 
furnishings were I could scarcely make out, for seats, 
floor, racks, were a dusty orange hue from the red 
clay country through which we passed. Even the 
usually inky faces of the porters had a lacquer of 
vermilion. 

After a few hours we came out on the veldt, a 
scrubby plain, but still bearing signs of civilization at 
the stations which boasted restaurants not unlike 


INTO THE BLUE 13 


Fred Harvey’s on our own Santa Fé. Also there 
were stands from which the natives sold cigarettes 
and fruit. 

When we were awakened next morning by the red 
sun streaming in on our berth we found ourselves in a 
new belt. The cocoanut palms near the coast and 
the scrubby country through which we passed in 
the late afternoon had been left behind. All around 
us was a vast plain as far as the eye could reach, 
sentinelled by an occasional thorn bush or acacia 
and bulwarked in the distance by low-lying violet 
hills. At the stations the natives wore skins instead 
of khaki and mother hubbards, and carried shields 
and spears. Since daybreak we had been seeing wild 
animals. 

What a joy it was, after six gruelling months in 
civilization, to see again the real Africa we had come 
so to love. 

On either side of the track far to the distant hills, 
perhaps thirty miles away, the plain was covered 
with vast herds of game; horned and bearded wilde- 
beeste or gnus, ugly tusked wart-hogs, cunning little 
mongrel-like jackals, long-necked giraffe, gazelles, 
kongoni, ostriches, and striped clouds of zebra. Our 
queer beast of iron that ran on rails seemed to bother 
them not at all; indeed they scarcely looked up from 
their grazing as we roared past, for they had long 
since learned that a locomotive is not carnivorous. 


14 SAFARI 


We came a few hours later into the modern station 
of the town of Nairobi, our final stop before stepping 
out into the unknown. It is a place of about thirty 
thousand souls, nine-tenths black or brown. On the 
streets were splendidly appointed hotels; ladies 
beautifully coiffeured; natives clad in one-piece skins 
riding bicycles, others in G-strings; black traffic 
policemen with vertical rows of bone buttons and 
horizontal rows of teeth equally shiny; a beauty shop 
where Osa got her hair waved; several book stores; 
department stores; black girls in skin clothing gazing 
in the windows; tea parlors; huts of mud and grass, 
of hammered-out petrol tins; cars; humpbacked 
oxen; fine Tudor houses; the bar of the Norfolk hotel 
where hovered the ghosts of Paul Rainey, McMillan, 
Roosevelt; gardens of roses fenced in from the bush- 
buck; and a cemetery where only the week before a 
lion had killed a kongoni. 

In Nairobi several friends met us: Blayney Percivai, 
the retired game warden and crack shot, whose com- 
panionship and wide experience have been invalu- 
able; Stanley of the Native Affairs office; Oscar 
Thomson, the acting American consul; and Bob Gil- 
fillan. We had a fine luncheon with them at the 
Norfolk, the rendezvous of so many mighty big game 
hunters. | 

Of course we had our luggage to attend to and in 
the afternoon, after lunching with a group of old 


INTO THE BLUE 15 


friends, I returned to the station, to find the black 
porters wildly flinging my cases on the motor lorries. 
Since these contained the highest priced cameras 
and camera materials I had ever owned, one may 
imagine my feelings. Sometimes I think these 
boys are thoroughly unreliable. Though they are 
big and husky, they are so muscle-bound I ‘can 
outlift and outrun any of them. Again I like 
them. At any rate, on this occasion, with a little 
well applied persuasion, they were soon working 
carefully and cheerfully, all singing away asif nothing 
had happened. 

This singing of theirs, or rather chanting, is always 
helpful as a stimulant to toil. I cannot transcribe 
it in musical terms. There seem to be no formal 
songs nor verses handed down from generation to 
generation. The men sing, no matter at what task 
they are engaged, handling luggage, thatching grass 
huts, sharpening spears, skinning game. Even on 
safari, they often break into song, unless too hungry 
or tired. Each accompaniment suits the particular 
task in words, tempo and rhythm of the tune. They 
always stress particularly the note that accompanies 
the heave or lift; and when any task is done they wind 
up with a sibilant psssstt/ If you have ever seen sail- 
ors working at the winch you can imagine the effect. 
I'd call it a sort of negro Volga Boat Song or African 
sea chantey. 


16 SAFARI 


Through the early weeks of February we were 
busy unpacking our cases, making up the contents 
into packages of the right sizes for porters and camels 
to carry. We were also buying things which we had 
not needed to ship down and which were used on 
safari, such as hardware of all sorts, galvanized water 
tanks, khaki clothing, sugar, coffee, and the native 
pbosho. There were also our splendid Willys-Knight 
motor cars to uncrate and assemble, and hunting li- 
cences to get, in case we ever found it absolutely 
necessary to shoot. In Africa these are rather 
expensive. One takes out a general license to shoot 
all the common game, the allowance being definite for 
each kind, though lions, zebra, leopards and hyena 
are unlimited. Special licenses are issued for ele- 
phant, rhino, giraffe and ostrich. We took out all of 
these, for though we should never slaughter recklessly, 
there might come times when we had to shoot 
straight and true to protect our lives. 

All these weeks I was choosing my native boys, 
porters, gun-bearers, house servants, cooks, and 
headmen. While all lived in native districts near 
Nairobi, their blood was that of a score of widely 
scattered African tribes. Many of them had worked 
for us before and the news of our arrival had been 
spread far and wide by some mysterious underground 
telegraphy. I did not have to worry therefore about 
hands, but I did worry about oxen and wagons, 


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INTO THE BLUE 17 


for there was a gold rush on down in Tanganyika 
and every available ox and transport had been 
gobbled up. 

However, by sending messages and runners to the 
Boer farmers roundabout I managed to secure a 
few oxen, and Percival, whose sure hand and ex- 
perience were to be with us for a time at Lake 
Paradise, got me over a bunch of thirty mules 
from a Nairobi cartage concern. Later I had a 
total of sixteen oxen besides my mules. My 
wagons and lorries, heavily loaded, I now sent on 
ahead, northward to Isiolo, two hundred and fifty 
miles on the way to Lake Paradise, the latter being 
our home and the greatest game sanctuary I have 
ever seen. I had already sent word to Isiolo to two 
friends, Dr. McDonough and Rattray, the former 
being government veterinary and the latter busy 
catching and training zebra. I asked them to 
put up my transports and look after my boys 
until I arrived. I then wired to Nyeri, a hun- 
dred miles north, where there was a lonely tele- 
graph station, and ordered four more ox wagons 
with a hundred loads of posho and four hundred 
gallons of petrol, as well as lubricating oil and 
kerosene, to proceed to the rendezvous at Isiolo. I 
was relieved when I got word that all were on the 
way. The rainy season was due in about a month. 
If it should strike us sooner my transports would 


18 | SAFARI 


become mired and all my photographic materials 
might be ruined. 

Altogether I had about as much trouble with my 
transportation problems as a general of the A. E. F., 
and now there was the problem of recruits. The 
most experienced and capable I selected out of that 
black host of grinning faces that had already mo- 
bilized from all over East Africa. 

To start, I enrolled Ndundu, a wise and crafty 
gun-bearer, good at his job, but temperamental and 
as vain as a turkey cock when given a little authority; 
Japandi, a skinner, who had been with the elder 
Roosevelt; Omara, a Meru, whom we would use as 
gardener at Lake Paradise; Abdulla, a Buganda, for 
chauffeur and mechanic; Jagongua, a big strapping 
Kavarando, for head porter of cameras; Thu, a young 
Kikuyu, to help with the simplest work in pictures; 
Nasero, a Minumewasa, as assistant head porter 
and gun-bearer, for he fell just short of the ability to 
have charge of any important job; Suku, a young 
Meru, as first boy or body servant; Semona, a 
Buganda, for second boy; two Merus whose names 
I cannot remember, for rough carpentering; and 
above all, Bukhari, my head man, a six foot Nu- 
bian, black as ink, powerful of limb, statuesque of 
feature, and a real African aristocrat. 

There were others, of course, who would serve as 
ordinary porters for carrying things on safari, cutting 


INTO THE BLUE 19 


down trees, smoothing rough spots in the road, and 
blazing trails through the jungles; but with those 
mentioned by name we had closer personal contact. 

As a farewell to Nairobi we gave a picture show at 
the Royal Theatre. It was a great sight, peeping 
out from a point of vantage near the screen, to see 
in the native section of the theatre some of my old 
hands sitting motionless except when they gave 
way to chuckles of pleasure as they saw themselves 
pictured on a safari during our first African 
expedition. 

The next morning we packed a few extras in our 
passenger cars. Among these were twenty pounds 
of butter in salt, four dozen eggs in sawdust, a boiled 
ham, twelve loaves of bread, and safari biscuit for use 
when the bread gave out. Also there were cameras, 
tripods, tarpaulins and tents, and such things as we 
needed on the ride up to Isiolo, where now our main 
caravan was encamped. Then we set out, coasted 
over a splendid modern road kept in shape by native 
labor, through plains with only an occasional head of 
game, and put up that night at Thika, at the Blue 
Posts Hotel. This hostelry consisted of sixteen 
straw-thatched sugar-loaf huts, each hut being a 
numbered room. We fell asleep quite happily to the 
music of two waterfalls a few yards from our hut. 


CHAPTER II 
OUR RACE TO PARADISE 


Y heart sank when I saw how slow our progress 
north was and realized at the same time that 
the rains were only two weeks off. We simply had 
to get across the Guaso Nyiro river before it was 
in flood or the season would be lost. The rains, I 
knew, would make such heavy going that it would be 
impossible for our motor cars to get through by any 
other route. 

One great comfort lay in my fine Willys-Knight 
cars which I had brought along for what proved to be 
certainly the toughest work to which any motor cars 
in the world have ever been put. It is a pleasure at 
this writing to say that my confidence was not 
misplaced. 

Six cars went on ahead of us all piled high with our 
stuff until their tormented springs cried out for 
relief. As I was afraid of the tsetse fly country 
through which we must pass I soon got rid of my last 
mules and took only oxen. _ 

We left Nairobi serious enough at heart. It was 
not so much the danger that worried us, though that 


20 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 21 


would threaten us often enough when the time came. 
We could shoot and had learned through many years 
of exploration how to handle ourselves in the wilds. 
But we had grave responsibilities; heavier burdens, 
sometimes I thought, than any we put on the backs 
of our camels and donkeys or the black boys who 
chanted so gayly as they safaried on ‘into the blue.”’ 
Then there were the human souls, the natives, who 
had entrusted themselves to my care. They could 
trail elephants and lions, of course, but many would 
die by the way because of perils I ordered them to 
take. They were well paid for it; but none the less it 
would be my fault. And there would be fevers, 
illnesses, wounds ahead; we had no physician or 
surgeon with us, and I must undertake those rédles 
as well as that of commander of this little army. 
And if I was concerned for them, I was much more 
anxious about Osa. Despite her years with me in 
the field, she was bound to be lonely at times. Her 
love of adventure, of fishing and shooting, her joy in 
wild animal life, would carry her a long way; but how 
about the times—and they would come—when she 
longed for friends, for new clothes, theatres, dances, 
all those things which can never wholly satisfy any 
worth while woman but which every worth while 
woman craves once in a while. And suppose she got 
ill, with no other white woman within call. 

As for the objective of our expedition, it was alla 


22 SAFARI 


gamble. The accomplishment of our main purpose 
was by no means so sure no matter how perfect our 
equipment nor how high our hopes. We had come 
twelve thousand miles, and were spending a fortune 
to take pictures, make a real screen story of African 
wild animal life, free and unmolested—all without 
directors, sets, and the trick and captured animals 
which are common to the usual commercial film. 

I do not often worry, just do my best, and let fate 
take its course; but I did think of these hazards as 
we listened to the tinkling of the waterfalls that first 
night on the trail. And in the morning, when I 
awoke, Osa was not by my side. 

I had, however, no sooner thrown on my clothes 
than she came bursting in, with a string of fat catfish 
_ which she had caught by the waterfall. 

At breakfast where we had a bottle of beer apiece, 
as a last toast to Civilization, and three each of Osa’s 
sweet-fleshed fish, we made up. Osa found a weigh- 
ing machine in the hut that served as office for the 
hotel and weighed herself and me, finding that we 
had already lost several pounds. ‘That is always the 
way. In New York we get stout and soft, eat too 
much rich food; I smoke too much and after a week 
or two we are both thoroughly discontented. But 
out here “‘in the blue’’—a name that comes I suppose ~ 
from the blues and violets of the ever vanishing hori- 
zon—we quickly harden, lose flesh, and can endure 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 23 


any hardship; and, except once in a while when our 
expedition seems threatened with failure, we sleep 
like tops. 

After weighing in, we drove on, I leading, Osa at 
the second wheel, Abdullah at the third, through the 
plains country, rising a little now as we came into 
the Mount Kenya district. From then on we came 
into the real country, the Africa we love. We were 
now about six thousand feet above sea level and game 
began to appear in droves. Hitherto we had seen 
only occasional prowlers; but here hartebeeste the 
common striped zebra, and the dainty Grant’s 
gazelle, galloped over the high plains. Flocks of 
ostrich, black-plumed cocks and brown females, fed 
quietly until we came abreast. Then they would 
start running parallel with us until we put on more 
power, when, as if challenged, they would spurt and 
gain—we simply could not keep up with them—until 
they were a hundred rods ahead. Satisfied then that 
they could beat us, they would leave the softer 
ground by the road, turn, and cross in front of us, 
often awkwardly sprawling in the rockier road bed. 
If they went through this programme once, they 
went through it fifty times. Osa and I laughed 
* until we cried; for lovely as they were in flight, they 
were absurdly grotesque when they doubled on us. 

We were going through magnificent country all 
these last days of the trip up to Isiolo. Sometimes 


24. SAFARI 


the roads were so smooth that we tried to go in high 
gear, but found we had to climb in low; the ascent was 
so gradual that it was deceptive. For mile after 
mile we wound up and down rocky trails within a 
few inches of the edge, looking down on little swiftly 
coursing streams, up at tiers of green-wooded ledges 
and a maze of trembling white scarves of waterfalls. 
All around us the latter plunged and smoked and 
bubbled from the green walls, as if designed by some 
master scenic artist. 

Often when the road curved round the shoulder of 
some hill or when we looked down a red vista of 
cliffs, we could see, sometimes at fifty, sometimes at 
seventy miles distance, Mount Kenya—green at the 
foot and to three quarters of the way up, then red, 
violet and blue in the craggy belt near the top, and 
snowy white at the peak. Like an image of winter in 
the arms of summer, she stood exactly on the 
Equator; and we should have liked to have visited 
her. For there, we knew, were all manner of beautiful — 
birds and beasts, the most luxurious of flowers; and 
we had once picked flowers that looked like violets 
upspringing there by the elephants’ trails. Butaswe 
could not delay, with our caravan eating off its head 
at Isiolo, we had to be content with the sight of those 
noble snowy peaks dominating the plain wherever 
we went. 

Late that night, after crossing several ice-cold 


‘[[@us pue }voI3 Y}Oq ‘oUIes UI Spunoqe spIsAsqUNOD SuIpuNnodins soy oy} pur ‘skayuou snqojoy [NyINeeq 
J27[9YS peayIOAO Svoi} YT, “}NOI}] UMOIG PUR MOQUIVI YPIA poy o1v VY} VAUD “ZIT JO JOO] VY} 7e SUIvEI}S OY} JO UO SI STU], 


‘100d TIVOIdAT, V NI ONIHSIY LAOUT, VSO 


No TrRouBLE atv ALL. 


Rainbow trout Osa caught at Nanyuki where the cold streams from Mt. Kenya make 
an angler’s paradise. One of these trout weighs five and three quarters pounds, and the 
other, three and a half. 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 25 


streams fed from the snows of far-off Kenya, we 
came on a faint trail. As we went we stirred up 
bustards, quail, sand grouse, and the ugly vulturines, 
which flew disturbingly about us like shadows of the 
dusk, sometimes darting over the windshield into 
our faces. With the dusk we reached a hill below 
which twinkles the flickering lights of a little native 
settlement. Vaguely we made out the huts of the 
quarantine station, saw flocks of zebra behind a 
manyetta or native corral and heard our men busy 
around their fires. ; 

Anxious as we were to reach our destination, 
Lake Paradise, we could not leave the present 
neighborhood until we had secured more oxen and 
camels and wagons; so we had a week to spend with 
Rattray and McDonough. However time did not 
hang heavy on our hands. Beyond Isiolo, stretching 
north of the river, was a great plains country with 
high grass on a red clay soil sanded white. This 
we explored standing sometimes on giant anthills 
twenty feet in height.‘ From these queer eminences 
we could see thousands of head of game—all kinds 
of gazelle and the greater antelope, oryx, and retic- 
ulated giraffe ambling along with necks bending 
forward in their queer fashion. All around us, too, 
swarmed game birds, bustards with their big fluffed 
heads, grey brown guniea fowl, as well as grouse, and 
spur fowl. Here and there grotesque vultures with 


26 SAFARI 


long necks and an undertaker’s look swooped above 
their quarry, or sat in grim circles around a dying 
zebra, waiting for him to die and sometimes hasten- 
ing on his end by climbing on his panting striped 
withers and pecking at his glazing eyes. 

Osa bagged some game birds and spent much time 
at fishing in the Isiolo. The stream was so covered 
with green vegetation floating on its surface that 
often when I came towards her, it seemed as if she 
were pulling the carp-like silver fish right out of the 
grass. iB 
Where we roamed either on the plains, or in the 
scrub country south of the river, we saw great droves 
of native goats and cattle. It was sort of a general 
hegira, for the different tribesmen were bringing 
down their herds from the frontier for trading in the 
south. McDonough, as head of the quarantine 
station, had his hands full; the” cattle here are 
afflicted quite as they are in the Argentine or Texas; 
those on one side of the river being subject to hoof 
and mouth disease, those on the other, to fever. 

Rattray’s place itself was fascinating. With 
his manyettas or corrals of upright palings, his 
bomas or barricades of thorn-bush, tame oryxes 
running around loose, spur fowl breeding with Ply- 
mouth Rocks in his dooryard, and tamed zebras 
learning to trot in double or single harness, his ranch 
looked like a zoo. 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 27 


Though we didn’t see him tackle any more leopards 
bare-handed, as he had once before, we had proof 
of what his powerful hands could do when we 
followed him up to one of his bomas or game corrals 
and saw him grab a full grown gerenuk that had 
drifted in during the night. The gerenuk is a gazelle 
with a neck so long that it reminds one of a cross 
between a gazelle and a giraffe and is now found only 
in this part of British East Africa. This one was a 
young buck with horns, and was standing in its pe- 
culiar fashion on its hindlegs with its forefeet against 
a tree browsing on the twigs or tender buds of the 
branches. 

Two Meru boys who were with us watched the 
bout between man and animal with astonished eyes. 
On their return they described it all over the many- 
etta. Now Rattray is more of a hero than ever. 
It is one thing to shoot wild animals with guns or 
spears and poisoned arrows and quite another 
to tackle them with barehands. They think he is the 
bravest and strongest man in Africa; they are not so 
far out of the way, either. 

After all we were glad to rest here a few days to 
await Percival, so that we might explore the desert 
north of the river for good trails to Lake Paradise, for 
we had so far taken a route new to us from Isiolo up. 
I had the boys build a few huts by the river on the 
edge of the stream. With their knives they cut 


28 SAFARI 


down trees, others dug holes, and a third band 
gathered and bound sheaves of grass for thatching. 
The temporary shelters were soon completed. 

Osa’s share of the work consisted in furnishing 
game and fish. It was strange, her passion for this 
sport, for she comes from an inland and rather dry 
country; but all of her ancestors were quick with 
the rod and rifle. And she came in so smiling and 
happy with her glistening fish—one night she had a 
twenty-five pound catfish—that I could not forbid 
her to go on her expeditions, though she sometimes — 
strayed pretty far from camp and often forgot to 
take her gunbearer. Of course, she can shoot and 
I’d rather have her by my side than most men in a 
pinch, but now on the plains at night we had already 
begun to hear the roar of lions and leopards. 

One of the most damaging encounters I have ever 


had with wild animals in Africa came at this time. — 


I carelessly leaned against a tree down near the river 
and dislodged a hornet’s nest. Its angry inhabitants 
promptly made for me, and in a minute I was stung 
in a dozen places and one got down my back under- 
neath my shirt. At the end of an hour one eye was 
closed and the other swollen nearly so; my upper lip 
was puffed out big as a goose egg; and I had bumps 
all over my neck and the top of my head. My back 
felt like one solid boil. I developed fever and alto- 
gether had a bad night of it. Worst of all was the 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 29 


fact that all the sympathy I got from my wife and 
my comrades was a lot of hearty laughter. 

Percival joined us at the Guaso Nyiro river on 
March 6th. He had left Nairobi a week after us in a 
rattle-trap old Ford car. His vehicle was so patched 
together with rope and wire that I wondered what 
made it go. He brought a native driver to take it 
back, a wild-looking Wakamba with filed teeth. 
Percival was pretty well done in when he reached us, 
having travelled night and day with his car limping 
most of the way. He had used his last drop of 
gasoline crossing the river. Had we camped any 
further on he would have had trouble finding us. 

Time was flying and the rains getting closer and 
closer to ruination of my plans. On March 7 I took 
one of the cars and three boys and drove north 
to look over the possibility of getting through the 
mountains ahead of us. It was necessary to find out 
if the trails would be passable for our ox wagons 
and lorries. When we reached Lake Paradise we 
could safari out after game in trackless deserts on 
camels. But now we had to use these machines 
which were utterly out of character in the desert 
drama to convey our things to the mountains and 
beyond. Besides, they do make better time, in- 
finitely better, though they destroy the atmosphere. 
However there was atmosphere enough, with the 
great desert stretching for miles to the north, a red 


30 SAFARI 


clay base sanded like a barroom floor, with little sad 
bunches of grass here and there, a mournful-looking 
and lonely thorn tree perhaps and only an occasional 
little mound which reminded me of the old theatrical 
seas a generation ago, with their great sheets of 
fabric to get an ocean effect while boys’ heads bobbed 
up and down underneath to make the waves. Well, 
there on the Kaisoot Desert, it seemed as if only an 
occasional boy were on the job, so rare were the 
waves. The vast expanse was like a grey sea asleep. 

Now and then, too, as I rode, I would see on this 
moth-eaten mangy desert a hyena, like a hideous 
yellow dog with his fore-legs longer than the rear, 
making him walk as if his back were broken. 
Occasionally, as I neared the infrequent waterholes, 
I would startle a herd of zebra, which would kick 
up their heels and then gallop away only a little 
more real than ghosts because of their black stripes 
and buckskin. When nearing the Ndoto mountains, 
once up a donga (a rough craggy red gully like our 
Montana coulees) I startled a lion over a zebra which 
lay on its side, its belly swelling and its legs out 
straight in the rigor of death. Nearby lurked little 
doglike jackals. The natives say that the jackal is 
in cahoots with the lion; that the jackal is his scout 
or little black bellhop and tells him of easy kills. 
Then when he has performed his task well, the lion 
allows him his commission or tips in nice zebra or 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 31 


giraffe meat. They have many quaint explanations, 
these blacks, but this one seems almost sound. 
Anyway, there were the two jackals dining away 
peacefully side by side with the king of beasts on 
this striped filet. 

After three days of reconnoitering I returned to 
camp and found Percival with a story similar to 
mine. He had followed a second trail on foot, strik- 
ing the mountains at a closer point thanI did. But 
there was no sign of a way through for our heavy 
vehicles. We held a council of war and sadly agreed 
that it would be a waste of time to try any further 
along this route. 

I passed a miserable night. Hour after hour I 
lay awake thinking of the hardships we had under- 
gone to get this far, the money it had cost, and the 
strain on man and equipment; and now we had to 
turn back and do it all over again in another direc- 
tion. And, I knew, there was every chance we would 
succumb to the terrific rains long before we reached 
our goal. 

Before daylight I had reached a decision. I knew 
our boys would start grumbling the minute we turned 
back. So before breakfast I had the porters lined 
up, posho rationed to each one for four days and 
started them all back to Archer’s Post. They 
muttered in their own tongue; but with full bellies 
they took it pretty well, all things considered. 


NT TT a ee 
Ok ee a ee 
’ te at SS Se ee re 
FAS Pah o >. 
oa . \ “ ee o i 5 


32 SAFARI 


After a hasty breakfast I struck out for Isiolo, 
making the fifty miles in four hours, fair racing 
speed for this wild country. At Isiolo I found that 
Rattray had left for Nairobi. I rushed on to 
Archer’s Post fifteen miles away and left orders with 
Mohammed Sudan, the black clerk in charge, to have 
my porters, when they came in, return for another 
load as quickly as they could. Then I put on full 
speed back to camp. 

Now it began to rain. I left Archer’s Post at 
9 P.M. in a downpour which soon made muck of the 
going. At 10 I nearly ran into a group of a dozen 
hyena, who were dazed by my light. At least fifty — 
jackals ran ahead of me at different times. About 
midnight four fine maned lions and a lioness ran 
across my trail and into the bush. A little further on 
two lion cubs were playing in the road. Their 
mother, a fine-limbed lioness, jumped out, defiantly 
' faced me a second, then the three slipped off into — 
the darkness. At a place called ‘‘Kipsing” by 
the natives, I encountered three rhinos rooting in — 
the sand. They faced me and snorted angrily at my — 
intrusion, then trotted off. I killed many birds that — 
flew into the light and were blinded. As I had no : 
windshield several hit me in the face. ae 

It was a nightmare, that ride; and one that will 
stay in my memory. I arrived back in camp at 
3 P.M. all in, and too utterly exhausted even to sleep. J 


A MEMBER OF THE FAMILY. 


We sleep in our cars while on safari. Naturally Kalowatt, our Borneo Gibbon’s 
Ape, who traveled with us for nine years, makes herself at home. 


KALOWATT Sick In BEb. 


Kalowatt was intensely human, and in this instance her expression showed 
plainly how sorry she felt for herself. 


Mem gate 


Two Uses ror AUTOMOBILES IN AFRICA. 


Asove—Crossing the northern Guaso Nyiro River on the Northern Frontier, where we 

often had to wait a week for the water to go down. : 

BrLtow—Osa’s new Wyllis-Knight in Tanganyika. She always drove it bee and 
sometimes we were able to go Kandeees of miles across the wide plains. 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 33 


For five days we relayed our stuff back to Archer’s 
Post. Osa was a brick. Few women could have 
stood the hundred miles a day of struggle with the 
spirit and courage she did. We were both worn out 
when it was over. 

Now my boys began to get ill. I sent back several 
Meru who wereinabad way. A few more deserted. 

March 29th found us plugging northward again, 
now across the Kaisoot desert on a more familiar 
trail to Lake Paradise, one which we had worked out 
for ourselves on our first visit some years before. 
When our cars stuck, it was a case of dig and swear, 
load and unload, haul and push, from dawn until 
midnight. One night millions of grasshoppers in- 
vaded us. Next morning we found the camp black 
with the remains of those which we had trampled 
down. 

On April 2 we struggled into Kampi ya Tempr, the 
government boma or station. Here we found 
Lieutenant Harrison, a young Englishman with 
twenty-five Askaris who had been stationed in this 
god-forsaken spot for sevenmonths. The place con- 
sisted mostly of a few mud huts and a little cattle. 

While we were having lunch a black fellow came 
up and saluted, addressing Osa and myself by name. 
He turned out to be an old friend of a former expedi- 
tion, a native named Boculy, whom I had been trying 
to trace ever since we had landed. We called the 


34 SAFARI 


fellow ‘‘half-brother to the elephants”’ because of his 
uncanny knowledge of the beasts. He could find them 
where no one else would dream of looking and was 
about the only black I have ever known who could 
really track an elephant successfully. The leutenant 
was kind enough to say he would loan him to us; at 
which Boculy grinned all over and darted off to 
gather up his blankets. 

We spent a day in camp rubbing our sore limbs 
with Sloan’s liniment and tightening our loads for the 
next test. On April 5th we moved camp ahead to 
where we turned off from native trails towards Lake 
Paradise. Now we were going up more rapidly and 
the country began to get more wooded. 

It was on April 12th that we had our first meeting 
with the elephants. Boculy suddenly paused in the 
trail ahead and waved his hand. Watching him 
stealthily, we could almost see his lips form the word 
“Tembo,” Swahili for elephant. Right ahead was a 
fine young bull with forty pound tusks, calmly 
pulling the branches of the trees down so that he 
might graze on the tender shoots. Sleepily he 
munched his fodder. It made me sick at heart not 
to have my camera. He was perfectly posed and in 
a beautiful spot for pictures. Even the light was 
perfect. The wind being right, he did not get our 
scent but went on eating as if there were no white 
man within a thousand miles. 


OUR RACE TO PARADISE 35 


Then suddenly he heard some sound or, the wind 
veered and he caught our scent; for he stopped graz- 
ing and melted into the forest. It is a trick that 
elephants have, most astonishing when one considers 
their huge bulk, the way they vanish so noiselessly 
into the green. 

There were thirty-six more hours of blazing a trail 
by pounding rocks and felling trees, and then we 
reached a little open space on what seemed to be the 
top of the world. All around the clearing was the 
emerald of wood and vine; beyond, as far as the eye 
could reach, the great desert, for all its reddish grey 
waste a magnificent sight because of its vastness. 
Then, two hundred feet below us, in a hollow of an 
extinct crater, girdled by forest aisles, shimmered 
with a thousand shades of blue and green that cup 
- of sweet water which we call Lake Paradise. 


CHAPTER III 
WE DIG IN 


T took us several months to get built and organized 

at Lake Paradise because in effect we were estab- 

lishing a permanent colony where Osa and I expected 
to spend most of our lives thenceforward. 

Of course there was strong temptation to start 
right in on our work of hunting and exploration. 
But we didn’t succumb. There were many weeks of 
work ahead before our rough camp could become a 
permanent base. 

Osa and I were determined to be comfortable. 
Our theory was—and still is—that the best work in 
the field is done when one is in the best of health and 
good spirits. Nothing means more to health than 
cleanliness of food and person, and the surroundings 
in which both are enjoyed. 

Promptly our small army of half-naked blacks got 
busy under the direction of their leaders and set 
about building our village. We could have gotten 
along with a small lodge for ourselves and lean-tos 
for the natives. But our plan was to have a real 
residence, mess shack, laboratory, store-houses, dry- 

36 


WE DIG IN 37 


ing houses for ourselves; and good family cottages 
with rain-proof thatched roofs for the good men 
whom we had selected from the natives to be our 
retainers. 

To give a clear idea of our base it is first necessary 
to give some sort of picture of the lake beside which 
we had settled. Imagine, if you will, first a gradual 
slope starting twenty miles south of here, swelling 
up to this three-peaked mountain, volcanic but now 
extinct. So long has it been extinct—for ages, just 
how many, no one can guess—that the earlier reds, 
violets and blues of its slag and subsoil are covered 
now with every imaginable shade of green, save in the 
patches of cliff not yet concealed by the clambering 
vines, and around which innumerable animals for 
innumerable years have worn hard trails. 

A lake—our lake—a mile long and a half-mile wide, 
fills the summit of the age-old crater. Its edges are 
covered with vegetation, not stagnant and motion- 
less, but ever swaying and floating and shimmering 
with a thousand shades bordering on blue and green. 
On it float coots and ducks; on the limbs of trees 
overreaching the water sit wise old storks; in the 
marshes wade blue heron and flamingo with their sun- 
set breasts. 

Opposite where we camped rose sheer cliffs seem- 
ingly impassable. Nevertheless, with the glass one 
could pick out trails around them and circling the 


38 SAFARI 


borders of the lake; all worn down and baked hard 
from centuries of travel, not by men, but by gener- 
ations of elephant, buffalo, and rhino. 

Then, all around the lake, stretched miles of forest 
aisles of splendid African timber. The trees were 
festooned with pendant mosses and alive with voices, 
the trumpeting and crashing of elephants, whine of 
hyenas, gossip of baboons. The very passes, too, 
were filled with wild flowers after the rainy season, 
masses of blossoms where elephants trod, scarlet ones 
like pompoms around which butterflies flitted. And 
for fonts in this natural cathedral there were little 
waterholes and many waterfalls whose lacy veils were 
as fine and white as a bride’s. 

Place all this, then, on the roof of the world over- 
looking the great desert, as if you lived in a tower 
never before dwelt in or assaulted by man; then 
reflect on the fact that game came here to drink © 
when Cleopatra sailed up the Nile, even when Noah 
stood by his ark’s sail and laughed with his sons, one 
of whom fathered these black men that range for- 
lornly with their cattle far below; and you can guess 
at part of the thrill we felt and something perhaps 
of the inspiration. 

Percival had an interesting theory about how the 
water came into Lake Paradise and I think he was 
correct. He brought the subject up one night as we 
sat smoking. 


WE DIG IN 39 


“‘It is a curious lake,’’ he observed. ‘‘Have you 
any idea how it is fed?”’ 

“That is easy,’ I replied. ‘‘Rains are caught in 
the crater which forms its bowl.” 

‘No, that theory won’t hold. There is too little 
slope on the crater to catch much water; what is 
caught would evaporate quickly; and by the end 
of the dry season you’d find your lake gone.”’ 

‘Springs, then,’’ suggested Osa. 

“Wrong again,” Percival replied. ‘‘This is the 
highest point for hundreds of miles and you wouldn’t 
get all that water from underground springs. What I 
believe is that it is fed from other lakes at higher 
levels way up in Abyssinia that discharge their water 
through underground rivers which find their way 
here.” 

“You told me,” he added, “‘that when you were 
here before you noticed a net loss by watermarks of 
three feet each year. If we could find this other lake, 
you'd find that it too was lowering at the same rate; 
and perhaps your great-great-grandchildren will find 
no lake here at all or else only a rhino wallow.”’ 

We couldn’t, however, imagine any such fate for 
this beautiful body of water, probably first visited by 
an old missionary two hundred years ago who wrote 
that old yellowing book, which had originally aroused 
our curiosity and led to the lake’s latest discovery. 
No, we simply would not believe that the lake would 


40 SAFARI 


ever disappear, especially as it was now so full and its 
square mile of area shimmered so beautifully before 
us in the moonlight. 

Anyway all our theories were put to flight by Osa’s 
stage whisper: ‘‘ Look there!”’ 

She pointed down to a little park-like space of 
about five acres, fairly clear, with a few great trees 
on it. These trees were all rubbed smooth on one 
side by animals scratching their backs and flanks. 
Indeed, one may find the same characteristic on all 
the trees by the trails of the forest. _Some are smooth 
on one side up to a distance of fifty feet, showing that 
generations of game have there rubbed their sides, 
and the growth of the trees has carried the smooth 
marks upwards. 

To this five-acre clearing a great trail led from the 
forest, and down it a rhino and his mate were coming. 
As they approached the edge, the disturbed waterfowl 
rose from the surface of the lake and whirled and 
circled in the moonlight. 

After drinking with great gulps, which we could 
clearly hear, the beasts began to graze and approach 
our shore, their great bulks almost black against the 
moonlight gold, and the two horns on their snouts 
clearly silhouetted and looking for all the world like 
quotation marks. As the wind was just right they 
did not catch our scent. Besides, since we were 
above them they did not see the flames of our fire. 


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WE DIG IN 41 


Finally they came so close to the shore under us 
that we could have pitched pebbles on their backs. 
Then suddenly they either caught our scent or 
smelt the fire, for they made a charge up the trail 
leading towards us and we began to shift in our 
chairs. The three black shapes in those chairs must 
have puzzled them, for they stopped midway in their 
charge and turned back, disappearing without caus- 
ing us further concern. 

To the reader’s natural query as to how we kept our 
peace of mind at nights with so many wild animals 
around I can say that we made it routine for the boys 
to bring in dry wood at the end of each day for our 
night fires against our wild neighbors. 

Osa was responsible for starting this routine. 


During one of our first nights, when we were still in 


tents, a rhino came right alongside the one in which 
Osa and I were asleep. Probably he got very close 
before he saw the white ghostly mass in the darkness. 
He snorted loudly, whirled, pawed up the ground, ran 
away a short distance; whirled again and snorted and 
then ran off into the forest. Osa was frankly scared 
stiff, and I didn’t blame her. She dislikes rhino 
more than any other animal, and she said she had 
been dreaming about one of them when she was 
awakened by the first snort. She gave me a good 
scolding for letting the fire go out. Then she took 
the law temporarily into her own hands to call Buk- 


42 SAFARI 


hari from his own tent and give him orders to have 
a man keep the fires up all night from then on. And 
that was that. 

Because of the unending rain we hurried the build- 
ing of permanent quarters as much as possible. 
Most of the construction of shacks in British East 
Africa outside. of Mombasa and Nairobi we had 
found rather crude. Prevailing style, if you care to 
call it that, was mud and straw thatch or, nearer 
the railroad and highways, hammered out petrol 
tins. Usually the frames were made of tree poles 
hastily cut with knives instead of axes, and tied 
together with twine made from vines, the whole 
covered with a dubious plastering of mud and 
thatched with bunches of grass. 

We wanted something much more durable. So 
we made our poles thicker and sank them deeper in 
the ground; constructed stout sets of laths tied with 
jungle twine, poured pebbles and mud into all the 
spaces between, then stuccoed the whole with buffalo, 
elephant and rhino dung. We took extra precautions 
by mixing the dung with clay which made a service- 
able exterior and interior wall. Previously all the 
dung had been pressed by the boys who gathered it, 
packed in pits, mixed with water, then trodden down 
hard much as peasants press grapes in the French 
provinces. When weathered a little the color, like 
that of Chinese punk which also is made of dung, 


WE DIG IN 43 


was not unattractive against the green background 
when topped by the yellow of the thatched roof. 

With this thatching too we took extra pains. On 
our dwellings we had a double roof to make an air 
Space and secure greater coolness in summer. 

On the interior walls we applied a shellac of paint 
and glue, and papered the whole with Marduff, or 
rough calico sheeting, which sometimes serves in 
British East Africa as currency. This done, Osa 
took the wooden cases which contained my photo- 
graph materials and which were of fine smooth boards 
and made good flooring for our living quarters. 

We were not without comforts. Our living room 
was fourteen by seventeen, had a fireplace, a kitchen 
and bathroom in back—we had brought along a tub— 
and there was a porch infront. Wealso had a house 
for sleeping quarters; a store house, a laboratory 
building, a dark room, and a dwelling for such guests 
as might take it into their heads to come on from 
America, though there seemed little chance of that. 
Around the garden, like a row of barracks, were the 
porters’ and native boys’ huts, of the usual crude 
construction which they seem to prefer. As their 
stuccoing with handsful of mud hastily thrown on did 
not stand much weather I could foresee much time 
lost in repairs every time we hada storm. However, 
it is useless to try to train the natives in the white 
man’s ways in so far as their own living is concerned. 


44 SAFARI 


In these first weeks we were very busy. Despite 
the incessant rain the camp and forest presented a 
very lively appearance which must have astonished 
the hyenas and jackals that prowled about as well as 
the innumerable colonies of baboons assembled in the 
trees. We were always up with the sun. After 
breakfast one gang would go off to get clay; another 
to fell logs with their knives; others would gather 
dung, treading it in the pits, or gather vines for twine 
and tie bunches of grass for thatching. Within the — 
manyetta, or inclosure, house boys would be digging 
postholes or rearing frames, working with the vege- 
tables, and milking the cows. Silent but industrious 
were Abdulla as he worked over the cars, and the 
Meru carpenters, whom I simply could not teach to 
lay logs in Western cabin fashion. They always 
insisted on placing them upright, as their forefathers 
had done since the time of the flood. 

Osa too was very active. She attacked the store- 
house, which was to hold our posho corn meal; put 
hinges on the box covers; made shelves of jungle 
grass; and planted flowers and vines around our liv- 
ing and sleeping quarters. But the busiest of all, 
I think, was Kalowatt. She would swing from tree 
to tree with her graceful gestures, then suddenly 
pounce down on a black boy, seize the arctic wool 
cap which the native insists on wearing even on 
the Equator, then run up on a limb or ridgepole 


WE DIG IN 45 


and survey her angry victim with mischievous 
satisfaction. 

Of course, there were days when all things did not 
go smoothly ; when the boys were too tired to chant as 
they sang; and we had: many malingerers. The first 
week we had none, the second week three; by the 
fifth eighteen reported at my laboratory for the 
evening clinic. However,I fixed them. To the very 
few that really seemed sick I gave a reasonable dose 
of quinine or whatever the patient seemed to need; 
but to the malingerers I gave a whopping big table- 
spoonful of powdered quinine and four tablespoonsful 
of castor oil to wash that down. ‘Then I made each 
squat down for a quarter of an hour and stood over 
him to see that he did not spit up the dose. The 
next day my clinic had only three visitors. 

There were times, too, when Percival and I had 
to make our rounds and rout out the boys who in the 
middle of the morning lay sleeping in the jungle 
despite the cobras and leopards which lurked about. 
A few well-directed kicks, however, soon set them at 
work and on the whole we had comparatively little 
labor trouble. 

And still it rained. I have seen the play ‘‘Rain’’ 
in New York and have been to Panga Panga several 
times but never have I seen it rain asit did here. It 
seemed as if that one first moment of sunshine when 
we reached the summit and looked out over the lake 


46 SAFARI 


was the only one to be vouchsafed us to show us what 
the country could be like. Nevertheless, we kept 
busily at work, some gangs going up the back trails to 
help the delayed transports, while others started 
building our shelters. And though, even when it 
stopped raining, the trees still dripped cold moisture 
on us, I kept the boys cheerful by rationing out extra 
lots of sugar and coffee and slaughtering oxen for 
fresh meat, a pleasing variation from their regular 
corn meal or posho; and we managed to keep great 
fires going somehow, part of the time, so that they 
could dry themselves before going to sleep. 

In the early stages our boys were most miserable of 
all, having not even our insecure shelter. When the 
foremost wagons arrived and we put up our first 
tents, Osa called the boys and made them come under 
the tent porch flap where they squatted, grinning 
as Osa called out from within little jokes as old as 
Ham of whom we have just spoken, such as “‘It’s 
a good day for ducks,” nevertheless new to them. 
Her cheerfulness under all sorts of hardships was 
part of the secret of her charm, also of her power over 
them. 

It was like Osa to start a garden in spite of the rain. 
Scarcely had we started unpacking than she had a big 
bundle of garden seeds out, checking over its con- 
tents. On the second afternoon she mustered a gang 
of boys with shovels and picks and cheerily started 


WE DIG IN 47 


them digging a garden in the mud. The spot she 
selected was on a well-drained hillside and not quite 
as hopelessly muddy as on level ground. Percival 
and I only jeered, saying the seeds would rot if the 
birds didn’t eat them. But we couldn’t discourage 
her. 

Her courage was rewarded in due time by a crop 
that still makes my mouth water. She had beans, 
peas, sweet corn, carrots, potatoes, cucumbers, tur- 
nips, squash, salsify, cantelope and watermelons. 
She was proud to the bursting point of her achieve- 
ment; and I confess Percival and I had to take a back 
seat in agricultural matters from then on. Many 
days she wandered about amid her fruit and vege- 
tables, weeding and picking bugs, rain or shine. 
Luckily she was able to get more boys to help her 
at this time because our work was constantly delayed 
by the torrents that streamed from the heavens upon 
our unprotected heads. 

During all these weeks of hard labor, we fared very 
well at meals. Phishie and his boy gave us regular 
English breakfasts of bloater or kippered herring. 
Often we had ham and eggs, for Osa’s original seven- 
teen chickens soon increased to fifty, then to a hun- 
dred, then totwo hundred. At luncheon and dinner 
we had all the vegetables in season—peas, beans, 
cucumbers, sweet corn and melons, which she had so 
carefully tended; and Phishie delighted in making my 


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favorite floating island pudding and in serving hors 


d’wuvres on special occasions. His pleasure came in 
tempting our appetites, not in the dishes themselves; 
for when he had cleared away the most sumptuous 
meal, he would squat down on his haunches and 
reverting to type, eat his ground posho and water 
with only an occasional bit of oxen steak. Omara, 
his helper refused even this, saying that God had 
made the oxen, as well as everything that breathed, 
brothers to man; therefore it was wrong to kill and 
eat them. | _ , 

Even when our larders later became depleted, we 
had delicacies from the wild. Osa would go out and 
come in with armsful of asparagus from the forest. 
Here, too, she found a delectable wild spinach, wild 
plums, rather bitter raw but delicious as jam; a 
black cranberry, very sweet and good; a native coffee, 
with great beans; a fruit resembling apricots with 
seeds like those of apples—a favorite with elephants; 
and trees oozing with brown honey. 

It was, in short, a Robinson Crusoe life; or, since 
we were so many, an existence like that of the Swiss 
Family Robinson; with modern adaptations, of 


course, in our cars, machine shops, developing tanks, — 


and wiring. Otherwise we were primitive enough. 
And the settlement, when finished after many moons 


of labor, was picturesque with its collection of over- : 


hanging yellow thatches; the laboratory as the thirty- 


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WE DIG IN 49 


foot skyscraper; acres of climbing beans and tall corn 
spears; our little army of blacks; the mobilized motor 
lorries, cars, and ox wagons; flocks of chicken and 
spurfowl; herds of donkeys, humpbacked cows, and 
camels; and Kalowatt, an army in herself—all set 
within that thirteen-foot stockade of palings and 
thorn bush on an eminence above the green lake in 
the heart of great forests which grew on the roof of 
the world. 

sometimes it seemed to us like an African 
adaptation of a Western trading post. 
_ I was overjoyed when I set up the electric light 
____ plant and the engines started off with the first turn 
in _ of the wheel. Luckily I got the battery liquid just 
i 3 _ right on the first test and the batteries themselves 
_ were in first class condition, despite their rough 
4 : journey up to the Lake. Asa result I had lights in 
my laboratory in no time. I had not planned to use 
ss electricity in the other houses, although I know the 
natives would have gotten a big kick out of such a 
luxury. 
; ‘ It may sound funny to be talking about a bathroom 
a out there in one of the most inaccessible camps in the 
_ African wilds. But religiously night and morning I 
had our personal boys bring clear sparkling water and 


50 SAFARI 


bered that our own expedition was not for hunting 
except in a pictorial sense. When we killed a lion 
or elephant it was solely to save our lives and not to 
boast that we had broken a record. We never fired 
a shot except when absolutely forced to do so. 

One stove was finished the very first day. It was 
built on the order of a separate fireplace, with large 
boulders especially selected for their size and color. 
We had one head cook and several kitchen assistants. 
Everything that we used in the way of pots and pans 
was kept in a state of the most scrupulous cleanliness. 

Strange to say, Osa’s narrowest escape from injury 
in Africa came not from a wild animal but from cook- 
ing. We were cooking a juicy young guinea fowl. 
It was cleaned with its feathers on. Then Osa 
wrapped a damp towel around it, placed it in a hole 
in the ground with a little sand and a lot of hot 
ashes. The whole thing was finally covered with a 
thick layer of more sand to keep the heat in. 

After about two hours she knew the bird was done. 
At her word the black cook opened the hole. Sud- 
denly there was a loud explosion and a fragment of 
red hot stone whizzed past her head, striking one of 
the porters on his cheek and causing a deep cut and 
burn. Had Osa not moved a moment before she 
might have been killed. 

I later found this is not an uncommon occurrence. 
Stones often explode in this region when heated. 


WE DIG IN 51 


Most of them are of fairly recent volcanic origin. 
Gases have been sealed up in them for centuries. 
0 when they are heated the gases expand and burst 
them open. Natives say there are many accidents 
of this sort. 

Osa was delighted when I installed our laundry. 
I had a special building erected where all our washing 
was done in big tubs by the natives. Clean boiling 
water was used and real irons and ironing boards. 
All this paraphernalia fascinated our African help 
who possessed no clothes to launder. 

With the completion of our settlement, the rainy 
season stopped. It had not rained all the time, of 
course. After the first four or five days of heavy 
downpour, the heavens usually contented them- 
selves with a good shower between middle afternoon 
and sundown, and there were strips in the desert 
below us which had very little water during the two 
and a half months of this season. But we were glad 
of the advent of fair weather for now we could set 
about making the pictures for which we had come 
over so many lands and seas. 

Our final housewarming we celebrated by a great 
barbecue of oxen which I had bought from the 
neighboring Boran wanderers, and by the wild 
chanting of the hundred odd natives in camp. 


CHAPTER IV 
‘‘TITTLE HALF-BROTHER OF THE ELEPHANTS” 


WORD about our boys and their cousins up 
country whom we came so well to know. I 
think our most difficult problem was to understand 
the workings of the native mind. For instance, we 
soon found that when washing clothes our boys would 
use a cake of soap per garment if we let them. They 
loved to see the bubbles—and they believed that 
cloth could not be cleansed except by rubbing the 
soap directly on it for a long time. Once we got a 
shipment of soap flakes. These were a total loss to 
the natives because the flakes disappeared before 
they could be rubbed in for any time at all. 

Of course they couldn’t read signs on our food 
tins. I remember one day I left a can of cleaning 
compound on the kitchen shelf. The dining room 
boy thought it was salt and placed it in our salt tin. 
Osa baked bread with it and the dining room boy 
filled the salt cellars with it. The cook flavored the © 
soup with some more of it. You can imagine the 
excitement when dinner time came and everything 

52 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER” 53 


had a rank alkaline taste. It was some time before 
we could solve the mystery. 

We had some trouble with our fuel, which was wood 
and very smoky. But Phishie, the head cook, an 
inky black Swahili, finally became a past master of 
keeping red hot coals under the stove top without 
more than the faintest wisp of white vapor rising 
through the chimney. 

One day Phishie came over to where Osa was 
putting some bulbs into her flower garden. He is 
over six feet tall and usually very graceful in every 
movement of his lithe body. This morning he was 
behaving awkwardly, hitching from one foot to the 
other and grinning foolishly. Osa thought he was 
going to apologize because she had just jumped all 
over him when his last batch of bread was not quite 
as good as it should have been. 

“What do you want, Phishie?’’ she asked him 
when she saw that he couldn’t quite get up his nerve 
to speak. 

He grinned a six-inch grin. ‘“‘I want to tell you, 
Memsab, that I think her man some day be as big as 
fine elephant,’’ he said. 

For the fraction of a second, Osa thought the boy 
was trying to be fresh. But that is the last thing in 
the world he would have done, I know. So she 
nodded seriously and said, ‘‘Why do you say that. 
Phishie?’’ 


54 SAFARI 


‘Because Memsab is such a good cook,” he 
responded. 

Apparently, he was trying to pay Osa a compli- 
ment and congratulate Martin all in one stroke, to 
say nothing of getting back into her good graces after 
the calling-down he had just received over the 
bread. 

The natives were by no means as particular about 
their food as we. Of course we made sure that they 
had plenty to eat. That is one of the secrets of 
keeping a safari crew happy and industrious. At 
the same time, we had to watch the men to see that 
they did not gorge themselves just before some 
especially hard job was to be undertaken. 

My messages, which I had sent out from Nairobi 
by native runners all over the North, had borne 
good fruit. Scores of black boys and men had 
appeared out of nowhere, at our rendezvous at the 
quarantine station. I was particularly glad to see a 
tough-looking wise old Swahili who grinned and 
hailed me as ‘‘Bwana Piccer’’ (Master Picture), a 
name the natives gave me because of my calling. 
Two years ago he had been one of my porters and had 
been charged while on duty by a rhino. His stom- 
ach had been as badly ripped open as the horses in 
the Spanish arena. At the time I thought he would 
die, and left him with an Indian dresser at Meru 
where for months he lay flat on his back. But here 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER” 55 


he was, a little changed from his original pattern, but 
otherwise quite hale and hearty. 

Among the others that came in were two promising 
looking huskies with heads smeared with red clay, 
wearing anklets of colobus monkey, and carrying 
fine spears with ostrich balls on the ends. At once 
they elected themselves headmen, refused to recog- 
nize the authority of Bukhari, my chosen headman, 
and tried to usurp his place. As they held some 
sort of influence over the other blacks, I had to humor 
them until my caravan got under way; but I deter- 
mined to fix them when once I had them out in the 
desert. : 

My force of blacks now numbered seventy, all 
seasoned men, though not as yet very well disciplined. 
For vehicles, I had my group of Willys-Knights, 
several ox wagons, veritable droves of Abyssinian 
donkeys—not so well disciplined, either—and a lot 
of ungainly camels. With these, every man and 
beast heavily laden, we made an imposing caravan 
on the trail. 

One morning our safari was changed into a hell 
when we saw clouds of dust on the horizon and an 
army of Samburu came loping up, with vast herds of 
cattle, camels, goats, and donkeys. You never heard 
such a bellowing and bleating, nor smelt such a stench 
of sweat, black flesh, stale one-piece skins, and dirty 
cattle. Worst of all were the swarms of flies which, 


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56 | SAFARI 


like a plague of Kansas seventeen-year locusts, 
settled on our windshields, swarmed over our food, 
covered every inch of our faces and actually made 
the groves as dark as night. 

Down to the river brim the Samburu women drove 
their donkeys, laden with gourds for water, where 
they filled these natural urns, meanwhile screaming 
at and tongue-lashing each other, while their 
ferocious-looking helpmates stood around us, many 
files deep and bristling with spear-heads. 

At first the encounter seemed very ominous. A 
stranger to the desert would have been apprehensive 
for his life. But impressive as was that bristling 
ring, we knew we had little to fear. The black 
seldom attacks a white man. In Africa it just isn’t 
done. Every tribe seems to take for granted Cau- 
casian superiority. Indeed, so thoroughly is it 
recognized that the native is just a little scornful 
when the white man fails in anything he tries to do, 
though none of the miracles his master performs seem 
toimpress him. I have taken boys from the frontier 
down to the station and waited for the reaction when 
they saw their first locomotive. They never gave it 
a second look. Perhaps this was because they had 
seen my motor cars and electrical equipment and 
were so impressed by our witchcraft that after that 
anything was possible for Bwana. Not being inter- 
ested in machinery for its own sake, the locomotive 


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“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER” 57 


was just another iron horse. But once let me have 
engine trouble on the desert and fail to fix the car 
instantly, and I fall in their esteem. 

They do not seem to envy us any product of our 
civilization. I have already told how Phishie, our 
cook, can serve cocktails and hors d’euvres and make 
a delicious floating island pudding which the boys 
serve perfectly; but when the meal is over, the three 
squat on their haunches, eating their posho from 
rough bowls, though they could have anything we 
have ourselves. Suka, our house boy, sometimes 
wears a suit of khaki; but when he visits his father, 
who is clad in a G-string and plowing his fields with a 
sharpened stick, he flings off that khaki and goes 
ninety-nine per cent naked around the manyetta. 
None can be more hysterical than he at a native cere- 
monial ordance. Except for wages sometimes, fresh 
meat or a cigarette, the white man has nothing that 
the black man desires. 

So we were not at all concerned by these armed 
warriors that had descended like wolves upon us; 
especially as a minute after their arrival they dis- 
covered the little mirror at the side of one of our cars. 
They were black statues no longer. Immediately 
there was such a shoving and pushing as no one ever 
saw at a subway rush or a Donnybrook fair. 

Among their herds were some camels whose looks I 
liked; and after each warrior had surveyed himself in 


58 SAFARI 


the little mirror to his heart’s content, I started to 
bargain for them. The process was worse than the 
purchase of a rug in a Cairo bazaar. There is a 
standard price prevailing in East Africa of a hundred 
shillings; but for formality’s sake they asked two 
hundred and stayed pat at this price from dawn to 
dawn. It seemed almost as if they enjoyed seeing me 
swat their flies. With sunup, however, they agreed 
on the terms which they knew from the beginning of 
negotiations they would in the end have to accept. 
Then they drove off, leaving us the five camels and 
every one of the flies. 

On the trail in the Mt. Kenya district, we passed 
hundreds of Kikuyus clad in one-piece skins and 
G-strings, and surrounded by thousands of bleat- 
ing goats, on the trek for new grazing grounds. 
They seemed to travel very slowly, moving on for a 
little piece, then stopping while their herds nibbled 
the short bunch grass which formed a scant cover in 
this dry season for the red clay ground. During 
these pauses the herdsmen squatted on their haunches 
by the trail. Such a jabbering and blahing of herds- 
men and goats you never heard! 

Once in awhile Osa would signal me to stop 
and she would converse with them in Swahili, at 
which she had become more expert than I. This 
is a sort of African Esperanto understood by the 
native tribes which roam Tanganyika, British East 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER” 59 


Africa, and even Abyssinia far to the North. Like 
Yiddish, which is a conglomeration or polyglot of 
Hebrew, Bohemian, German, Slavic and Spanish, it 
is made up of native dialects and Arabian terms, 
first stirred into a lingual goulash by the old Arab 
slave traders who used to range these parts, driving 
their chained gangs of blacks before them down 
to Mombasa where they were shipped to all parts 
of the world. The purest Swahili is spoken around 
Zanzibar and has its grammar, newspaper, magazines 
and more permanent literature. The tribes like 
these Kikuyus which we met by the trail used a sort 
of bastard or cockney Swahili; but it could be easily 
understood by any white who had been for some time 
in the country and who was at all observing and 
attentive. 

To this dialect or African Yiddish are daily being 
added new terms, due to the advent of Europeans. 
For instance, we have now statione, post-officey—they 
seem to like this Italian-like suffix—for station and 
post office. And we had no sooner started our 
engines again than Abdullah called out to Osa that 
there was something the matter with her ‘“motor- 
car’s foot.’’ She had a flat. 

These Kikuyus and their herds, and the little 
dukas, or native stores, sugar-loaf in shape, thatched 
with straw, or made out of hammered-out petrol tins 
and offering for sale penny’s worths of sugar and 


60 SAFARI 


cheap coffee and cigarettes, were the only signs of life 
we saw in their neighborhood. At the dwkas, little 
black boys would come out and stand there, stark 
naked, at salute—a trick they had learned from the 
King’s African Rifles, the National Guard of blacks, 
officered by whites, which patrols this region. 

We had learned to handle natives on our previous 
visit and during our years in the South Sea Islands; 
to like them also. Boculy was our best guide— 
the “ Little Half-Brother of the Elephants.’’ I think 
he knew the pachyderm family better than any man 
living. He could tell their size and speed and the 
direction of their travel by a crushed leaf or a broken 
branch. A mere handful of tracks would reveal to 
him the number in a herd. 

We were fortunate indeed in employing Boculy. 
He was born on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, but he 
seems to know every mountain and river, in fact, 
every waterhole in Southern Abyssinia and British 
East Africa. Somewhere in the wilds he has a 
thousand cattle and two hundred and fifty camels, 
which the Borans or some one of his wandering tribe 
tend for him while he is on safari with the white man. 
The languages of each of these plains and desert 
people he knows and he surpasses the chiefs by far in 
intelligence. By a sort of free masonry he can secure 
aid from them when we need it; and a mere look 
from him or a wave of his hand will drive away whole 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER”’ 61 


tribes from waterholes when we want to take pos- 
session and make pictures. 

Altogether he is Napoleon and Mussolini rolled in 
one, though he seems to have no organized follow- 
ing. He is contented with the exercise of his power 
only for some immediate necessity. 

In endurance, too, none equal him. He will slip 
away like a ghost of the desert on some mysterious 
errand, fade away ‘‘in the blue,” trek hundreds of 
miles without tent or blanket or food and water- 
bottle, traversing wastes where we know from experi- 
ence the waterholes are fifty to sixty miles apart— 
then reappear, his mission accomplished, and take his 
place in camp quite as if he had left us but the minute 
before. 

But it was not the mystery of him nor the inscrut- 
ability of his wise old face that most impressed us. 
It was his baffling knowledge of all the four-footed 
inhabitants of the wild and their ways, particu- 
larly of the elephants to which he is little half- 
brother. 

He seemed to have a peculiar and almost super- 
natural instinct for game. He could scent it like a 
bloodhound. One morning, as was his custom, he 
had been up at sunrise and off to a waterhole three 
miles away, where, he assured us, we would find 
plenty of ‘‘tembo,” or elephant. How he knew they 
were there was beyond us, since all the elephants 


62 SAFARI 


had migrated from the forests with the big rains. 
But it was always safe to trust Boculy. 

He did not speak but waved us on, leading the way 
with his peculiar crablike shambling gait up more 
dongas and through the brush. Every now and 
then he would stop like a pointer dog, bend down, 
pick up a piece of mud, examine it, and shake his 
head in affirmative or negative. If the evidence 
of the trail seemed to be satisfactory, he would 
examine the earth for a few yards roundabout, then 
pick up the trail again. ) 

What he saw we could not see. Sometimes, so he 
afterwards explained it to me, the mud dropped from 
a hoof would tell part of the tale, for rhino, elephants, 
and buffalo choose different kinds of mud for their 
baths. Sometimes he could tell that particles of 
mud had come out of the crevices between the toes 
of tembo; again the bending of blades of grass, crushed 
leaves, and so on, would betray not only the kind 
of game but the direction it had taken and its 
goal. 

Further, the condition of the bruised blades of 
grass to him was eloquent. It takes only three hours 
for trodden grass to spring up again; he could tell the 
time of passage by the angle. Finally, knowing 
the locale and the beasts’ habits and rate of speed, he 
would predict the very spot where we would find the 
herd. | 


Oe ea ee ee EN Dow ne 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER’” 63 


Such signs as these were difficult for us to read; 
but there were other and far more obvious ones. 
The spoor, for instance, varied with the kind of game; 
and its condition too would reveal the time of 
passage; while in wet ground or soil easily impressed, 
one could find three-toed rhino or hippo prints, 
which are the same in size but different in outline. I 
got so I could even distinguish between these and the 
tracks of elephants; for the elephant has four toes 
and as he lifts his foot always scuffs a little. Some 
say sex too can also be detected, alleging that the 
female elephant’s print is oval, her mate’s circular. 

White hunters have learned to read these more 


legible tracks; but, unlike Boculy, they are easily 


fooled. Often we would have trailed a herd because 
there were lots of hoof prints when our guide would 
not have given it a thought. He had observed the 
abundance of small tracks of the totos or baby 
elephants, evidence enough to him that there would 
be no ivory—bull elephants usually keeping by 
themselves during the nursing season. ‘‘No pembe 
(ivory), he would say. 

The woods overhead were another open book to 
him. He would pick up a dislocated branch and tell 
you within five minutes of the time a herd of some- 
thing or other had passed that way. Or he would 
iook up at the trees and notice that the tender buds 
had been eaten off clean while the branch was 


ey a er 
inte pee” em at A A 


64 SAFARI 


unbarked and unbruised, showing that big “‘twigga” 
(giraffe) had lately grazed there. A hundred yards 
on, he would call “‘tembo”’ where branches had been 
pulled down, disjointed, and bark stripped by the 
clumsy elephant who does not graze daintily as does 
the giraffe but goes lumbering along, his trunk care- 
lessly rifling the trees and leaving an unmistakeable 
trail. | 

I kept up with him in the field as often as I could, 
for his lore to me was fascinating. When I asked 
him more about tracks, he pointed out the different — 
prints—those of the buffalo, whose sharp hoofs cut in 
where no elephant’s hoof makes a mark and which 
utterly kill the grass that the elephant only bruises; 
the leopard, whose pad differs from the doglike 
cheetah (the former’s claws being sheathed when he 
walks) and also from the hyena, which leaves a mark 
like a four-leaved clover with the petals all on top 
while the leopard’s is shaped like a water lilly. 

As for Simba, King of Beasts, Boculy explained 
he does not leave many marks. His prints, if you 
ever find them, are round like the leopard’s but much 
larger; and the easiest way to track him is to find his 
kill. As he usually drags this into the bush for 
uninterrupted enjoyment you will not find him far 
away. His padded course leaves little disturbance of 
the ground. And the only marks on vegetation are 
the wisps of hair on the thorns which, I am sure, 


A Hermit Visits THE WATERHOLE. 


This female must have been very lonesome, for during the three years we lived at the 
lake we saw her quite often and she wasalwaysalone. Inthisinstance she has come down 
to have a solitary drink at the home-made waterhole where we got other elephant and 
buffalo pictures. Sometimes two pictures were taken at the same time, by cameras 
about twenty feet apart. 


Bocuty, THE GREATEST OF ALL ELEPHANT TRACKERS. 


Boculy’s powers are uncanny. Born among elephants, and having spent his life in 
their native haunts, he can foresee their slightest move better than any man in Africa. 
Every blade of grass, every footprint so faint that no one else can see it, tells him a 
thrilling story. 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER’”’ 65 


prevent the growth of those fine manes one some- 
times sees in captivity. 

Much of Boculy’s skill, I thought on reflection, 
could be cultivated by the white man if he gave years 
of time and concentration; but never the finer points. 

Boculy was an exception even among the Africans. 
None of our other hunters, skinners or gunbearers 


even remotely approached him. I know I was in 


despair when on the plains he would look four miles 
away and pick out, from what I thought just a violet 
rose-red blue of crag and sand and bush, a motionless 
rhino which, even after being posted, I could hardly 
discern through the binoculars. 

But we did not appreciate Boculy’s craft at first 
and sometimes as he shiambled along, seemingly half 
asleep like his half-brothers, the elephants, and mut- 
tering to himself, I thought he was just fooling us, 
pretending to examine the earth in which we could 
see no marks of any kind, and going through the 
motions to earn his baksheesh. 

‘“‘He’s a faker,’’ I said to Osa, one day. But she 
had more confidence in him. 

“‘Give him a chance,” she replied. ‘‘He looks to 
me as if he knew his business.” 

She had no sooner said this than Boculy stooped 
in the grass; posed motionless like a pointer again; 
picked up more bits of mud; looked at some leaves; 
sniffed the trail this way and that on all sides for 


66 SAFARI 


about a rod; then said,—‘‘ Bwana, over by the Old 
Lady Waterhole (a name Osa had given one of the 
small oases), you will find five bull tembo, four 
females, and three little toto.”’ 

It was unbelievable, but when we climbed some 
more boulders, cut down a flower-strewn ravine and 
came to a great grove of mimosas watered by a 
cascade falling into a natural saucer our faith was 
restored. There quietly grazing were the elephants 
our black paragon had promised us. | 

That even Boculy was human I discovered one 
day when he called me aside, saying he had some- 
thing very secret to tell me. He then proceeded to 
confide in me that we should never get pictures so 
long as Ndundu, one of our other guides, was with us. 
It seemed, he went on to explain, that Ndundu had a 
peculiar kind of blood which caused all the game to 
leave as soon as he came into a neighborhood. The 
manner of the animals’ leaving was for them to vanish 
into thin air. Before he confessed all of this to me 
he had convinced my other porters of its truth. 
However, so rotten had our luck been just then that 
I was almost ready to believe it myself. It took a 
lot of tactful talk to dispel Boculy’s dark beliefs. 

One day I asked my laboratory boy why he didn’t 
take a bath, once, say, in six months. Inthe warmth 
of the little room in which we worked I found his body 
smell particularly offensive. 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER”’ 67 


“God made water for hippo, not for black man,” 
he explained smilingly. 

“But you smell,” I told him frankly. 

He turned on me a serious liquid brown pair of eyes. 

‘Bwana,’ he said, quite without any intended 
rudeness, ‘‘to the black man you smell too and very 
bad. Even the elephant not like your smell as much 
as black man’s.”’ 

Again I gave it up. 

The easy-going ways of the natives in the many- 
ettas, or villages, which stretched at great intervals 
throughout the plains, were quite as incompre- 
hensible. Some of those whose homes I had visited 
would take it into their heads to come three days on 
safari just to say “‘hello.’’ Perhaps they thought I 
might present them with something or have some 
work they could do, but if I didn’t, and merely gave 
them a curt ‘‘hello,’”’ they wouldn’t feel at all un- 
happy about it. Time meant simply nothing to them. 

When they were given work, they were often 
unreliable. In sending them on errands I had to 
insist on their bringing back something as proof that 
they had reached their goal. Sometimes it was a 
bullet from Boculy who had gone ahead; again the 
merest trifle, useless, but which I pretended I wanted 
so that they would not fail. 

Often I thought they didn’t know what the word 
gratitude meant. At least what one did for them 


68 SAFARI 


did not seem to arouse that sense. The white man 
was superior; it was his place to look out for the 
weak, though often he robbed right and left. He 
was your employer, therefore what he did for you was 
no more than your right. And if the black ever gave 
you a present, he would expect an equivalent in 
return. | 

There were exceptions, of course. One day, on 
safari, I found a fine sheep before my tent, and on 
inquiry I learned that it had been left by a desert 
chief who offered by the way of explanation that I 
was his best friend. Two days later, a donkey was 
delivered by his men. All through that month’s 
safari I was befriended in this strange way by my 
unknown benefactor. It was quite a mystery, par- 
ticularly since none of the natives of his tribe ever 
waited for anything in return, not even a handful of 
salt or sugar which they often beg for from caravans 
on safari. Osa at last solved the riddle, after some 
questioning of Boculy. 

‘“‘Don’t you remember,”’ she said to me one night in 
our tent, ‘that chief you saved from the K.A.R. (the 
King’s African Rifles)? Well, he’s the one.”’ 

So it all came back to me. I had been out with 
Carl Akeley, the great naturalist, when I came across 
a company of K.A.R. who were commandeering 
a great number of a chief’s cattle. Now they had 
a right to do this, for they were on government 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER’”’ 69 


business and it was sometimes the only way they 
could exist. Besides, they paid the chief in dollars. 
But the native does not always like to be paid in 
currency. Cattle are coin of the realm to him, and 
this chief could see no reason in taking his cattle and 
paying him in cash for which he had no use. And 
on investigating I found that the guardsmen, who 
happened to be acting without an officer, were a little 
too high-handed. 

As soon as I discovered this I interceded on behalf 
of the chief, then sat down and wrote on a piece of red 
paper that I happened to have in my kit, a lot of high- 
sounding phrases that threatened with imprison- 
ment any one who ever touched any cattle of this 
tribe. Of course, it was sheer bluff, for it was any- 
thing but official. Still, it took effect, for few of the 
K.A.R. could read; and the chief for years afterwards 
showed that piece of red paper to all white men 
who came through. It was for this service that he 
now sent so many welcome gifts whenever I went 
forth in the desert, so perhaps I am partly wrong 
about their capacity for gratitude. When they do 
not show it, it is because they are children and take 
from their white masters without question, as we 
receive rain or any other blessing from the greatest 
Master of all. 

And certainly they were very kind when we were 
sick. When Osa had a touch of pneumonia, they 


70 SAFARI 


stayed up wailing all night thinking that she would 
die; and in the mornings Phishie, the cook, and his 
helper would bring the most tempting of dainties 
and look hurt if she could not eat. Nor could any- 
one be kinder to his children than a native parent. 
I have seen a father stop his work to speak kindly 
to, or play with, his offspring who swarmed about 
him, while he and his wife repaired their poor grass 
hut, which was constantly being disturbed by the 
storms. 

I was sitting one night in front of our tent by a 
waterhole, when I heard noise near the back, and 
running around, found a hyena walking off with a 
leather chair I had made. MHastily I pulled off a shoe 
which I had just unlaced and threw it at him. The 
hyena dropped the chair and made off with the shoe. 
I had no sooner ceased cursing at him than three black 
boys came to me on the run, crying. There was a 
black boy at our camp subject to epileptic fits and this 
boy, they told me, had been badly burned. A devil, 
they said, had visited him and told him to jump 
in the fire. There was nothing to do but make for 
camp and here I found the poor boy in a horrible 
condition. His left leg had been burned to the 
bone, and he writhed on the dirty straw in the hut 
moaning horribly. 

I did what I could, swabbing out the burns with 
laboratory cotton, bound him with cloths boiled in 


“LITTLE HALF-BROTHER” 71 


hot water and treated with carbolic acid and used 
unguentine, but the flesh, burned to a crisp, came off 
in great wads. Three days and nights, Ndundu, Osa 
and I worked over him, for all the other natives were 
afraid of him, as something accursed. We had to 
relieve each other, for no man could stand for long 
that horrible stench of burned and decaying flesh. 

The third day, lockjaw set in, and I knew there was 
no hope. At midnight he died and next morning I 
summoned the boys to help with the burial. With 
scared looks they edged off from me and ran into the 
forest. I did the dreary job alone, putting human 
pity ahead of impulse. 


CHAPTER V 
WATERHOLE THRILLS 


HEN we were thoroughly established at Lake 

Paradise we set about our safaris, the na- 

tive term for expeditions into the field. This was the 

chief work of our expedition, the purpose of which, as 

I have said, was to record African wild life in its 
native haunts in film form. 

I picked the various neighborhoods in which I was 
to work according to the season of the year and the 
kind of game I was after. Elephants were found right 
around our camp. We had to go down to the plains 
to get lions. Waterhole photography was not profit- 
able in wet weather, as water was then too easy for 
the game to get. 

To the untraveled in the wilds of Africa there is 
little distinction between the species of big game as 
far as habitat goes. But it must always be remem- 
bered that all the varieties of gazelle and antelope, 
giraffe and warthog, zebra and lions, are to be found 
in greatest numbers on the plains; while elephants, 
buffalo, and sometimes rhino are more at home in the 

72 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 73 


forests such as those that surrounded our base camp. 
In the height of the rainy season the latter often 
journey forth while the waterholes of plain and 
desert are filled to the brim; but when the worst of 
the rains are over they troop back again. Boculy, 
that wise man of the trail, tells me that some rhino 
never leave the forest, evenin the deluge. As for the 
elephants, they are always glad to get back, once the 
rains are past, to feed on the wild sweet young ends 
which they dote on. 

As some of our best and most interesting work was 
done around the waterholes, it might be well for me 
to describe a day at one. 

By June the heat is terrific and dries up all standing 
water except the larger oases. Our plan is usually to 
build a blind of thorn bushes. Thorn branches are 
also put in spots around the water where the camera 
cannot reach. This keeps the game before us. We 
go in early and wait for the animals to come. It is 
tedious work. 

I am out at five, eat breakfast, and call the boys to 
get the cameras. Lunch has been put up by the 
assistant cook. Osa and I go afoot to the blind, 
which is some distance away, just as the sun is coming 
up. It is the most delightful part of the day. During 
our two or three mile walk we pass hordes of all kinds 
of game. Hyenas and jackals scurry out of our way. 
Zebras screech and cough. Lions often roar nearby; 


74 SAFARI 


a lion seems to enjoy giving a few defiant roars at 
daybreak just before he goes to sleepfortheday. 

We reach the blind in about an hour. The boys 
have put it together the day before with thornbush, 
piling up the sides and top to cut out the light. For 
successful camera work an animal must not be able 
to detect any movement inside the blind. We go in 
the blind and set up the camera, arranging the 
different lenses so that I can get to any of them 
quickly. The boys push in the thornbush door at 
the back and hang a blanket over it so no light can 
filterin. The inside must be dark, with the exception 
of what comes in from around the lenses in front. 
Having focussed my lenses on the waterhole I wait 
until something shows up. | 

I have a small peep hole arranged from which I can 
constantly see out. I must keep watching, for the 
game makes almost no noise as it goes to the water. 
As my blind is from fifty to seventy yards from the 
hole, I cannot hear the animals even when they-drink. 

From nine in the morning until eleven, and from 
two-thirty to four-thirty is the best time for photo- 
graphic work, for the light is good. In dry weather 
the atmosphere seems to catch dust to such an 
extent that in the late afternoon the light becomes 
murky. A light rain settles the dust and washes the 
air. The trouble is that rains are few and far 
between in the waterhole season. In the rainy 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 75 


season there is so much water that the game does not 
need to gather at any particular oasis. 

Impalla and Grant come and go all day. They 
walk right to the water without looking around very 
much. Zebra and oryx come slowly and stop every 
few feet to look around. Sometimes it takes them 
two hours to get to water from the time I first see 
them. This badly wears one’s patience. 

Giraffe are the most shy of all. They will hang 
around sometimes for hours without taking a drink. 
The slightest thing that frightens them sends them 
off never to return that day. Other game can get 
many frights but still keep coming back. 

The trouble with the giraffe is that he is so pain- 
fully awkward. To drink he must spread his four 
legs stiffly apart and lower his long neck. In that 
position he is not free to spring away in a gallop. 
He must scramble for a few vital seconds if there is a 
lion around. He seems to realize this. 

Little game comes along in the morning unless it is 
a very hot day. Ona cloudy day few animals come 
at any time; but on hot days they come in groups 
separated by a hundred yards or so. As they amble 
along they stop now and then and stand dully with 
their heads down. Apparently the heat makes them 
sluggish. 

Zebra and oryx are always fighting with other 
members of their own species. These idiots tear 


"6 SAFARI 


around after each other, kicking and snorting and 
fighting. Of course this stirs up the alkali dust in big 
clouds. As the fighting animals run through the 
herds they are snapped at by the others who are 
much irritated. But hardly has one pair finished 
their fracas when another pair starts off. 

All during the day birds come down to drink. 
These are fine Kavarando crane, several varieties of 
storks, heron, hawks, and others. Big vultures come 
down and stand in the water. They are very 
picturesque with their fine six-foot spread of wings. 
For hours they hold their wings out, apparently to 
cool off their bodies. 

When some animal decides to venture to water, all 
stir. Often I have counted many hundreds of head 
grouped about. Zebra, especially follow the lead of a 
courageous one like so many sheep. If he starts to 
drink then they all try to drink with him. But 
let one get the slightest start and away go the whole 
herd in a cloud of dust. Some days the game is so 
nervous that a fly or a bee will set them all moving. 
I have never been able to get a big bunch drinking 
at the same time. 

Of course the reason for this nervousness lies in fear 
of carnivorous animals which are never far away. 
Lions, leopards and hyenas live on the plains. Their 
_ bread and butter consists of zebra and giraffe. None 
can tell which will be the next victim in the daily 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 77 


Slaughter. As a result, when giraffes, zebra or oryx 
are drinking they prick up their ears at the slight 
first sound of the camera handle turning. I try to 
have my machines noiseless, for the slightest click 
or murmur of gears reaches the ears of these shy 
animals. 

The minute I start turning the handle the animal 
looks around. But as the sound continues and 
nothing happens, he goes ahead drinking. When I 
stop, he gets another start and looks around again. 
Strange to say, the click of the still camera frightens 
him more than the whirr of the movie camera. 

The larger the herd the less chance there is of 
getting a picture of common game. The opposite 
is true of elephants. A single elephant is always on 
the alert. He knows that the slightest noise may 
mean danger. But when a herd of elephants come 
together they are unlikely to stampede. They 
seem to take it for granted that any noise is made by 
one of the other elephants. Thus I can always get 
closer with less danger to a herd of elephants than I 
can to a single one. 

In the long hours at the waterhole one cannot 
but grow to observe the markings of individual 
animals. 

There was one zebra I used to see time and again. 
He had a long scar on his back that looked as if it had 
been caused by a lion. 


78 SAFARI 


There was an oryx with only one horn. One Grant 
had only a single ear. An elephant will sometimes 
have a broken tusk, or his ear flap will be peculiarly 
marked. Other beasts you can tell by their offspring, 
while many have peculiar scars or claw-marks where 
they have been mauled by leopards or lions and yet 
through fleetness of foot and good luck have 
escaped. 

Now comes a long line of fifteen warthogs in single 
file. They all trot along at about the same speed, 
their tails in the air; they have a comical self-satisfied 
look about them. They stir up a lot of dust with 
their little feet. I hope they will come close to me; 
but, as luck has it, when they reach within ten feet of 
the water they swerve off and trot away without 
changing speed or seeming to be frightened. “‘ Water- 
hole luck’’ Osa calls it. 

I can always tell when ostriches are coming up even 
before I see them. Our animals pay no attention 
to different species of other four-legged game. They 
rub shoulders and all seem to be friends. But the 
minute an ostrich comes along, the ranks part. I 
have never seen an ostrich kick at another animal. 
Yet he seems to be feared. Also he is fearless. 
When he starts for water and there is other game in 
the path he never swerves or goes around it. He 
marches along with a slow dignified gait and the game 
makes way for him. 3 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 79 


One of my troubles is from animals coming up 
behind the blind. They get my scent and frighten 
away the game in front. It wouldn’t be so bad if 
they went completely away. The trouble is they 
just back off a hundred yards or so and keep the other 
game in a nervous state for hours. 

At 1p.M.I havelunch. For an hour or so I doze 
The heat is usually pretty awful. Like the animals 
outside it depresses me. They don’t feel like drink- 
ing and I don’t feel like photographing. With the sun 
directly overhead, the light is not right anyway. 

About 2:30 the animals start again for water. 
Around 4 o’clock they drink more and frighten less 
than at any time of the day. I suppose it is because 
many have put their thirst off all day and have 
decided to take a chance even if there is danger. 
Unfortunately, by this time the sun is getting low 
and shining at such an angle that it makes a yellow 
light that is bad for pictures. 

I leave the blind about 6 p.m. and get back to camp 
near 7. Meanwhile my boys have started from 
camp at 5:30. Suku sends them off when our big 
alarm clock rings. They stop on a hill top near the 
blind and wait for me to blow my whistle to show 
that I am ready to leave. 

I cannot leave anything in the blind on account of 
baboons. They are so curious and inquisitive that 
they run off with anything they can carry. Hyenas 


* TE En 
G aie <r ’ ae ie aed ~< 


si hee | bie: 
DG a | 
. 


80 SAFARI 


and jackals will take anything made of leather during 


the night. 


As time went on we gave names to those waterholes 


which we visited most. We usually named them in 
Swahili so that the boys could identify them when we 
gave directions. 

The one we called Wistonia was not far from our 
base camp. It was perhaps, the most beautiful of 


all. Great rocks, fifty feet high, surrounded it, show- 
ing beautiful hues varying from rose-reds to deep 


volcanic blue-black; facing the opening was a valley 
half a mile in length, richly embroidered, after the 
rains, with emerald green and rainbow-like flowers. 
The valley itself was cut by a ravine, or donga, with 
green swamp rushes and vegetation in the bottom and 
ferns and tropical vines growing up its sides. 

The waterhole, bulwarked by three cliffs, was about 
seventy-five feet wide and fed out into a swift-racing 
stream that skipped down the donga in a succession of 
little silver rapids until it disappeared from sight 
around a bend in the ravine. 

When we discovered this we followed one of the 
streams as it sped down a green-sided channel; and 
everywhere we went, we found other swift racing little 
streams coursing down ledges until they also fell in a 
succession of rapids and white waterfalls. Where all 
these little rivers came from we could not tell; but 
they were delightful, sometimes pausing in their 


be ie 
mot 


A Strupy IN SHADOWS. 


I think this picture of two beautiful little Abyssinian bushbuck is one of the most 
striking I ever made. They were coming up the trail from the lake, within a hundred 
yards of our home. 


A striped hyena comes to our kill. After an animal is photographed by flashlight he 
is blinded for about three minutes. As herunsaway, he blunders headlong into trees and 
bushes in his fright, which grows greater with everything herunsinto. Each flash prob- 
ably terrifies him out of a year’s growth. 


A Hyena THAT JumMPED BreroreE He LOOKED. 
A sneaky hyena who has got the scent of the meat we have placed in a hole just 


ahead of him. Whenthe flash went off he jumped into the bush alongside, and had such 
a hard time getting out that he yelped like a stuck pig. 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 81 


precipitous flight to broaden out into pools where 
water lilies floated, butterflies seemed to hang sus- 
pended, and innumerable little orange gold finches 
sang. Finally they increased in number until they 
formed a real little river, only to plunge again over 
rose-red and violet rocks into still larger water 
falls. 

I shall never forget the moonlit night we spent 
there at the Wistonia hole; just Osa and I, in our 
blind. About ten o’clock two full-grown rhinos 
came down and drank for fifteen minutes without 
stopping. These animals certainly have large tanks 
in their insides, for they drink without once pausing 
and the noise they make during the operation is like 
that of a Chinaman eating soup. This pair got 
through drinking, turned and went away as if they 
had important business elsewhere. 

Not ten minutes later a big rhino came down all 
alone for a drink. He consumed gallons and gallons 
of water and then, like the earlier ones, briskly de- 
parted. About midnight I was asleep, when Osa 
gently awakened me. I heard a scraping of feet and 
stones falling on the trail. A moment later buffalo 
came into view. They poured down by the score, 
crowding about, sniffing the air and advancing to the 
water so closely packed that they pushed one another 
into it. Altogether there were over two hundred 
drinking there at one time and the noisy quenching of 


82 SAFARI 


their thirst must have been audible for a mile in the 
still night. 

I went back to sleep again; but Osa can never sleep 
while in a blind. She is always too excited and 
curious about what is going to happen next. She 
wakened me again about 4 A.M. when a herd of 
elephants came to water from behind us and caught 
our scent before they had their drink. They snorted 
and trumpeted for half an hour in expressing their 
annoyance. But in the end they went away without 
touching the water. 

Another night we spent together at a waterhole 
we had named “‘Old Lady.”’ That time we had a 
good scare from a leopard that became too curious, 
but finally got rid of the fellow without using our 
guns. 

Near the edge of the forest and the foot of the 
slope that gave way to the great desert below our 
lake, was another waterhole that was particularly 
fascinating. It was really more than one waterhole, 
rather a chain of pools, fed by leakage from the big 
lake, which probably has many outlet passages 
running underground. 

One day in a great mimosa tree by the largest 
pool, the head of the chain, we built a blind, and 
here we spent the whole of four nights to see what we 
could see. The first night, the rain came down in 
buckets; our tarpaulin covering on the roof slipped 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 83 


and since even in blinds we usually change to 
pajamas, we were drenched to the skin and huddled 
miserably in wet blankets and sheets. All around us 
we could hear crackling of branches disjointed by the 
wind. There were other reports more terrifying 
at first, for the soil here is volcanic. Asa result the 
roots of the trees are near the surface; and in the 
heavy rains, when the soil is washed away, the trees 
fall right and left as if under the axes of hordes of 
invisible foresters. 

We were repaid, however, for all our misery when 
the following days turned out fair and we had abun- 
dant opportunities to take pictures of and study the 
animals. The bushbuck came down often, hurriedly 
as do all the gazelle and antelope, fearing, no doubt, 
attack at any moment from lions and leopards. 
Centuries have taught them discretion and they do 
not linger long, but simply drink and hurry away. 
Little jackals came on a dog-like trot, sniffing the air. 
Ugly hyenas slouched in with wicked grins and 
that ugly gait of theirs caused by their long forelegs 
and short hindlegs. Sometimes at night several 
would stand and snarl at the moon; and, if you lis- 
tened attentively, the yelps seemed to take on an 
individuality, ranging from gruff growls to whimpers, 
varied with the most impudent and bloodcurdling of 
staccato laughter. 

Week in, week out, I was very busy with my flash- 


84 SAFARI 


light work near the waterholes around the base camp 
or in its vicinity. Cameras were carefully concealed 
in brush near the trails and wires strung across the 
paths. By a device consisting of small disks on 
springs, the contact of an animal’s foot with the wires 
would set off my flash. 

At first we had little success. We got things like 
little gennet cats which are cunning enough 
ordinarily, but seemed to be moved to investigate our 
mechanism. However, these were not the fellows we 
came after. | 

The night of my first successful flashlight I was in 
bed when we heard the report and the boys came 
running in filled with excitement. . Two rhinos had 
set off the flash with results that turned out later to be 
splendid. Of course the discharge scared away all 
game in the vicinity for some time. But five hours 
later the flash went off again, released by some bird or 
other small animal. To make matters worse the glare 
and thud of the explosion stampeded a herd of 
elephants that had wandered in. 

At some of the waterholes where we had placed our 
flashes we found that birds had flown into the wire 
at such a terrific speed that everything was broken 
and we had no pictures; again elephants’ feet had 
twisted the wires and snapped them; and such 
pictures as we took of waterfowl were vague and 
blurred because the birds, after striking the wire, 


WATERHOLE THRILLS 85 


vibrated like gyroscopes. Finally, even the gennet 
cats grew wise; for instead of snapping at the meat 
which was hung from a cross wire suspended between 
two poles and which served as bait to lead our quarry 
to the disk spring which would start the flash, they 
climbed up the poles and across the wire and there 
devoured the meat. Once or twice we caught them 
at it; and it was funny to see them like tightrope 
walkers, cautiously making their way across the rope, 
every once in a while pausing and making their 
little noses go like rabbits, sniffing the air as if for 
danger. 

Sometimes for my flashlight work on the beasts of 
prey I had to use bait to supplement the waterhole 
lure. I remember one night waiting with Osa in a 
blind near one of the marsh-like holes where we had 
placed a dead zebra. Before sunset forty of my boys 
had dragged the carcass about for a couple of hours in 
order to leave a scent for the lions to follow. 

Then we took into our boma the electric wire lead- 
ing to the charge of magnesium powder we had 
placed behind our camera near the bait. With us we 
had only our guns and an electric torch. 

Until ten o’clock nothing showed up except hun- 
dreds of zebra and all the common game that we had 
kept away while working about during the day. 
Five giraffes stood under a tree nearby and nibbled 
at the tender young buds among the thorns. 


86 SAFARI 


At ten o’clock, I was asleep. As the bright moon- 
light was reflected by the sandy alkali soil it seemed 
almost like day. Suddenly I was awakened by a 
gentle push in my ribs and Osa warned me in a 
whisper not to make any noise. I slowly raised up 
and looked out through our peep hole. There was a 
full-grown maneless lion standing near the zebra kill. 
He was a beauty, his head moving in every direction 
very slowly as if to see that everything was all die 
before starting to eat. 

It was a fine sight. But the lion was not in the 
exact position I wanted him. Also his head was too 
far down. Whenhe moved a little nearer I whistled 
gently. At this he looked around but not far 
enough. Then I turned my pocket flashlight on 
him. Now he looked directly. at me, but not in 
alarm. At this instant I pressed the button of my 
flash. It went off with aloud boom. The lion was 
temporarily blinded and sprang wildly into the thorn 
fence we had laid to guide him before the camera. 
The photograph turned out beautifully. 

All waterhole work, night or day, was not as simple 
as that just described. For instance, some of the 
nicest pools were made dangerous by arrows of the 
native tribe of Ndoros. These shafts were set up in 
such a way that the animals coming to drink would 
let go a string that would cause a hidden bow to shoot 
the arrow direct at the drinking animal. A danger- 


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WATERHOLE THRILLS 87 


ous trap for man or beast, especially if the arrows 
were poisoned. 

Not always would the game behave just as we 

wanted it to. In one pool we were after hippos and 
had failed to get good film. Unexpectedly we came 
on a huge crocodile fast asleep with long jaws gaping 
wide open. I set up the Akeley camera and told Osa 
to go to a point above me and when I gave the word 
to shoot near his head, but not to hit him. When 
everything was ready, I signalled to her and started to 
turn the crank of my machine. Osa did as she was 
told and shot within a few inches of the reptile. 
He didn’t even move! Then slowly he closed his 
jaws. I told Osa to shoot again; she did; but the 
crocodile slept on. Finally we gave up our plan asa 
bad job and started down to chase the lazy fellow 
into the water with rocks. But just then a monster 
hippopotamus which had been asleep under a rocky 
ledge, splashed noisily away in shallow water. We 
rushed back to our camera, but it was too late. 


CHAPTER VI 
WILDERNESS FOLK 


NE of the ways I used to while away the tedium 
of my long hours at the waterholes was to make 
notes on the creatures which came down to drink. 
The more wild animals I come in contact with, the 
more human they seem to me. The camel is a 
peevish old woman; the elephant a scholarly gentle- 
man; the giraffe a born aristocrat; the lion a sports- 
man; zebras are just plain rowdies; the ostrich is 
a bully; the leopard an assassin, and so on. I re- 
member one camel which used to be the leader in 
our column on safari. I suppose the old fellow I have 
in mind was past his prime. But for a camel he was 
in good health and well treated. He had food and 
water when he needed them, and he had no sores or 
disease. 

Yet he used to start the day with a long 
lamentation. He would chew his cud between 
wheezy cries; then suddenly stop and make a sharp 
noise between a whinny and a sneeze. 

When his native keeper came along to load him up 


he invariably snapped at the man. When the load 
88 | 


WILDERNESS FOLK 89 


was put on the saddle he groaned as if in great pain. 
And when he got the order to rise, emphasized by a 
stiff toe prod, he would snort and cry out as if he were 
being beaten unmercifully. 

In the meantime the other camels were going 
through their own expressions of misery. Probably 
they took their cue from the leader. The exchanges, 
no doubt, ran something like this: 

“Oh, what a terrible life!”’ 

“Yes, and such heavy loads they put on us.’’ 

“My back, oh, my back; how my hump aches!” 

“Well, it hasn’t anything on my hind legs.” 

“‘I suppose we’re going miles and miles today.” 

‘“‘Yes, and it’s terribly hot!’’ 

“Oh, oh, oh!”’ 

“Oh, oh, oh!”’ 

After a performance of this sort it’s a pleasure to 
have dealings with lions. I shall tell more fully 
later how Carl Akeley helped us find a little valley 
where the lions had never been disturbed. Then for 
the first time I got a clear picture of lion personality. 
Eleven unconcerned lions were right out in plain 
sight, loafing around in the grass and panting with the 
heat. Some were asleep; one old male rolled over 
with his four paws in the air while we were there. 

Slowly we approached, taking pictures as we went. 
It seemed impossible that the animals would continue 
to lie right out there in the open and neither charge 


go SAFARI 


nor retreat. But that is exactly what they did. 

Finally we were only a few feet from a gorgeous 
old warrior. He raised his head and glanced disdain- 
fully at us. He seemed to say: “‘They’re queer- 
looking creatures, but it’s too hot to investigate 
them; anyway, I’m not hungry.” 

About this time a plump female emerged from the 
forest some distance away and came over to where her 
friends were dozing. One by one she awakened them 
with sly digs of her forepaw. They were annoyed 
at her idea of fun, but did not fight back. 

One lion rose and walked off. He strode with slow 
dignity as if he had some deliberate business in mind. 
He did not even glance our way, though I am sure he 
kept us in sight out of the corner of his eye. 

In action the lion is Ioo per cent in earnest. When 
he is hungry he goes straight to a herd of zebra or 
giraffe and singles out his animal without delay; often 
he stampedes the herd, and one is left behind. He 
kills it swiftly and surely. At once he eats his fill. 
He sleeps but twenty or thirty feet away from the 
carcass. When he awakes and can eat some more, he 
again sets to work. Meanwhile the carrion of the 
jungle keep their distance. 

In combat the lion is knightly in his courage and 
fierce tenacity. I have seen him face terrible odds 
against a score of natives armed with long spears and 
shields. The first burning sting of steel in his flesh 


WILDERNESS FOLK gI 


shows him what he is up against. He has all the wide 
plain in which to flee. Yet he continues the attack, 
roaring his defiance, until he falls, still facing his 
enemy, his body pierced with a dozen fatal thrusts. 

I think the hyena offers the greatest contrast to 
the lion. This slinking animal is cowardly, cruel, 
selfish, unsocial and in a dozen other ways con- 
temptible. I have seen a hyena run through a flock 
of defenseless goats at night, hamstringing one after 
another as he went for no reason on earth other than 
the vicious joy of torturing them. Sometimes at a 
waterhole he will break animals’ backbones or other- 
wise mutilate them and leave them to die. 

A hyena will lie in the bushes and spring out for 
the young goats as they pass down the trail. He will 
do this even when he is not hungry. He is a born 
murderer. A hyena is a coward and a sneak. I 
remember meeting one unexpectedly near our camp. 
His head was bleeding. Rarely have I seen such an 
expression of ignominy on any creature. He had 
been stealing out of one of our food boxes, and got it 
caught about his head. 

One day we had just started to walk away from 
camp when two hyenas came along. They didn’t see 
us at all. They were laughing away, like a pair of 
fools, just as if they were two traveling men and one 
had told a good joke. It was the first time I had 
ever actually seen a hyena laugh. It was so funny 


92 SAFARI 


that our boys shook with repressed mirth. Osa and I 
nearly split our sides. As the natives have a some- 
what anzemic sense of humor, the contagious nature 
of the hyena’s cackle may be judged from this early 
morning incident. 

The ostrich is a strutter. His stiff-legged walk 
adds to the air of false dignity about him. The big 
black male is a great dude. The female is a fitting 
mate. She is continually preening herself. She 
rises slightly on her toes and flaps her wings, for all 
the world like a prim old lady rising and settling 
herself in a chair. 

Few members of the bird or animal kingdom are 
wider awake to the proximity of trouble or danger, or 
more quickly hie themselves to safe ground when they 
decide it is time to move, than ostriches. I think 
the tradition that the ostrich buries its head in the 
sand on the approach of an enemy rose from the fact 
that it often gets water by poking its long beak down 
into the ground and sucking. “ 

I believe I have told how ordinary quadrupeds 
seem to be afraid of the ostrich. I have never 
seen him strike out with his heavy foot, but many 
a time I have watched herds of zebra and giraffe 
and others break ranks voluntarily to let the long- 
legged bird through. 

The funniest sight in the world is to see an ostrich 
come down off his “‘high horse.’’ I remember once 


WILDERNESS FOLK 93 


when we were slowly working our heavy trucks up 
from Nairobi toward Lake Paradise over trails soggy 
with the long rains. Through the light growth 
on one side we could see a group of ostriches peering 
at the strange visitors to their domain. Presently 
their curiosity got the better of them. They began 
to run ahead and cross the trail in order to get an 
unobstructed view of our cars. The trail was deep 
with mud and puddles. As each of the big birds 
reached it he centered his gaze on us. The first one 
got over all right. The second was squarely in the 
center of the trail when his feet slipped and—splasho 
—he fell into the middle of a mudhole! One after 
another the idiotic birds rushed out and sprawled in 
the muck with a great fluttering of wings and scram- 
bling of feet. At this sight of ruined ostrich pride Osa 
and I roared with laughter. 

The African wart hog is just plain pig; he looks like 
a pig, tastes like a pig and usually acts the way I 
think a pig would act if he were continually hunted 
by lions, leopards, wild dogs and natives. He has 
long tusks with which he does great battle with his 
own kind. But they are of small help when he is set 
upon by one of the big cats or a pack of wild dogs. 

In consequence of his unhappy lot the wart hog 
has developed a distinct inferiority complex. He 
looks enormously startled when you meet him. He 
sticks his little tail stiffly up in the air and gives vent 


94. SAFARI 


to snorts and squeals of fright. He darts through 
the underbrush and makes headlong speed for the 
nearest ant-bear hole. 

The hole of the ant bear is the wart hog’s only safe 
refuge. These holes are only a foot or so in diameter 
and many feet deep. Once down them, the wart hog 
is safe from all but man, and he won’t come out even 
if you dig down to him. But how he settles his score 
with his sharp-clawed host is something I have never 
found out. There may be some division of spoils 
about which I shall forever remain in ignorance. I 
think the truth is that the ant bear is never there, 
since he digs hundreds of holes looking for food and 
probably doesn’t go back to them. 

I like elephants. They are the fine, upstanding 
middle-class citizenry of the jungle. They attend to — 
their own business. They fight little among them- 
selves, make good, intelligent parents and have a real 
instinct of tribal loyalty. 

Once when I found it necessary to shoot to save my 
life from a charging elephant the big animal was 
mortally wounded, I wanted to fell him to save him 
from suffering. But while I was getting ready to fire 
again, two of his companions came on either side of 
the wounded warrior as if to support him as he 
tottered pitifully into the forest. 

I have seen a mother elephant lambaste her toto 
with her trunk, push it gently into column when it 


WILDERNESS FOLK 95 


was falling with weariness, and squirt mud over it 
from her trunk when it was crying from the oppres- 
sive heat of the plains. 

There is often something comical about an elephant 
because of its size and its indifference to what goes on 
about it when not alarmed. I remember one big 
fellow that had been feeding through the branches 
of a small grove of saplings. Suddenly he became 
so drowsy that he ambled to the nearest tree and 
leaned against it for a nap. He slept until sud- 
denly my wind reached him and he roused himself 
enough to waddle away into the brush. 

When fully roused the elephant is thoroughly 
vindictive. He apparently has no desire to kill save 
when in a state of intense indignation at being in- 
truded upon when he has been bothering no one in the 
world. 

Few animals respond to leadership as does the 
elephant. 

One day I was sitting in a blind with Osa waiting 
to get a picture. Soon we saw a group of shadowy 
forms come through the trees across the little open 
space that separated them from the waterhole. 

As one elephant is always ahead on such occasions, 
you can’t get a photograph of the herd; it stands 
back. 

On this occasion, as usual, the leader walked 
cautiously down toward the water while his twenty or 


96 | SAFARI © 


sO companions, some yards to the rear, awaited his 
verdict: one of the finest samples of animal prudence 
I have ever seen. 

After a few moments he went back to his comrades 
and stood by them for a little while. Then he re- 
turned to the vicinity of the blind. He repeated 
this action half a dozen times. All the while the 
others stood perfectly quiet, as if they reposed full — 
confidence in the old fellow. None showed the 
slightest impatience to get the drink that all must 
have yearned for after the scorching day just ended. 

Once another elephant came down while the first 
one waited with the line. But his verdict seemed 
also to be that trouble was near. Finally the leader 
went back to his people for a last time. This time 
all faded away into the jungle. 7 

The rhinoceros is a big, fat, stupid old idiot. He is 
always fighting, always in a bad humor, always 
grunting, always looking for trouble. I think he has 
the least desirable personality of any of the big 
beasts. 

I don’t believe that the average rhino has a friend 
in the world, not even among his own kind. Rhinos 
don’t go about in herds or mingle with other animals. 
When I meet them they seem to be always either 
fighting among themselves or making ready to fight 
us. On numerous occasions I have been treed by an 
angry rhino. 


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More ELEPHANTS IN THE SAME REGION. 


Note the tusks which have been broken by being used as leversin breaking down 
trees. Elephants like to eat the tender young buds and shoots at the top of the trees, 
which they pull down with their trunks, getting a good leverage on the tree with their 
tusks. Wehaveseenthis happen many times. Some hunters say elephants break their 
tusks by fighting, but we are confident this is not true. 


WILDERNESS FOLK 97 


Once when Osa went to investigate a rhino I told 
her to ride off down another trail on my mule. The 
first thing she knew she came plump on the big beast! 
Her mule was terrified; so was the rhino. Both of 
them started to run together. Fortunately they came 
to a place where the trail branched and the two crazy 
creatures diverged. 

A female rhino must make a poor mother-in-law. 
She keeps her grumbling young one with her until it is 
as big as she. 

I think all rhinos must wake up in the morning ina 
bad humor. As a sample of their petulance I recall 
one night when we were camping in tents on the side 
of a hill. Saunderson was below Osa and me at the 
edge of our line. Right in the middle of the night an 
old rhino came along and stuck her head through 
Saunderson’s tent flap. 

There was only one thing for the startled man to 
do. He kicked the intruding lady in the face and 
scrambled out through the back of the tent. Where- 
upon the “‘lady’”’ charged. She took tent and pole 
off with her at a gallop down the trail into the 
forest. 

_ The hippopotamus belongs to the same class of large 
animals as do the elephant and rhino. But if the 
elephant is a scholarly gentleman and the rhino a 
thundering old grouch, the hippo can be personified 
only as the sort of fat fellow who sits on the back 


98 SAFARI 


porch without his collar of hot afternoons while his 
wife takes in washing for a living. 

There is nothing more soothing to the nerves than 
to see a balloon-like hippo half submerged in a nice 
muddy river chewing its cud as if nothing in the wide 
world mattered. Indeed, nothing does matter to 
these placid beasts so long as there is water and fodder 
enough to go around. 

A hippopotamus is very comical when frightened. 
Like an obese ignoramus not used to being disturbed, 
he loses his head in emergency and is quite incapable 
of doing anything about the danger which threatens 
him. 

I remember coming upon a pair in a big river pool 
one hot afternoon. Immediately they submerged 
like a pair of fat submarines. I think they must have 
doubled their feet up under them for the water was 
very shallow. But they could not stay under the 
water for any length of time, since all hippos must 
come up to breathe. 

Sure enough, in a few minutes two wide snouts 
came panting and snorting to the scummy surface. 
When the beady eyes discovered that I was still there 
a great commotion ensued. More diving and snort- 
ing and frantic fat efforts. 

The encounter ended tamely enough when both 
beasts got out of breath and decided that it was no 
use to scramble any longer. They simply settled 


WILDERNESS FOLK 99 


down in the middle of the pool with snouts and eyes 
just above the surface and waited calmly for the end 
—whatever that might be—only hoping against hope 
that they’d be left in peace. 

The smaller four-legged animals are in some ways 
less distinctive in their human traits than the big 
ones. Yet they present many exaggerated human 
characteristics. 

The African wild buffalo, for instance, is exactly 
like a man who is always being stampeded by the 
latest rumor. He is continually and unnecessarily 
on the alert; not sensibly, like the cat family, but ina 
silly, apprehensive way that must take much of the 
joy out of his life. He will graze for a few moments 
in a natural manner; then up goes his head as he feels 
the wind. There may be no enemy within many 
miles, and his herd may not have been molested by 
man or by beasts of prey for months. It makes no 
difference; he is always nervous and ready to enjoy 
a panic at the slightest provocation. I have seen 
buffalo at the waterhole in this mood when all the 
other animals were as quiet and peaceful as a Sunday- 
school picnic. 

One interesting thing about the buffalo is the 
determined way in which he protects his own clan 
when an enemy appears. At the first warning he 
joins his brothers in a curved line, heads to the front. 
Calves and cows take position behind. In this 


100 SAFARI 


formation, with horns lowered and forelegs pawing 
the ground, the animals present a truly formidable 
defense. 

Perhaps it is this same nervousness that makes the 
buffaloes such aggressive animals. I know of several 
people they have killed; they make an awful mess of 
the body when they murder. Of course the buffaloes 
are prey for the carnivores, but their wiry build and 
combative disposition make them a tough meal to 
secure. My warning to strangers is always that the 
buffalo is one of the most dangerous customers on the 
trail. Heis a cutthroat from the word go. 

The wildebeest is one wild animal that has little 
or no personality. He is strictly “‘cow.’”’ He chews 
his cud and lies down when in a placid mood. At 
other times he is like a colt in a paddock, running 
about and kicking his heels in the air. Like the 
buffalo, he is very much on the alert. And, like 
many a human being, he dashes away from the 
slightest alarm, only to draw up after a wild gallop 
and wonder what it’s all about. 

The zebra is an animal with an interesting person- 
ality. He is silly and stupid. He often seems to 
stampede for the very deviltry of it and is a great 
hand to stampede other game. He is a first-class 
rowdy, always snapping and quarreling among his 
own kind, which roam in big herds. As two fighters 
dash through the herd, others turn and snap angrily 


WILDERNESS FOLK IOI 


at them, often kicking out with a vengeance and no 
little accuracy. 

One scrawny little fellow used to come down near 
our blind day after day. As he was too young to be 
alone, I concluded that his mother must have been 
killed by a lion or leopard. Zebras, you know, are 
the lion’s favorite food. This particular youngster 
was frail and terrified. Once for three days straight 
he came near the waterhole, but was too frightened 
to drink. I suppose he may have seen his mother 
killed. Finally he could stand it no _ longer. 
Trembling in every limb, he walked right into the 
water and drank until it seemed he would burst. 

Like the zebra, the giraffe is also an appetizing dish 
for the lion. This is distressing when one sees how 
kind and gentle this creature is. I look on the giraffe 
as the true aristocrat of the jungle. His manners 
are always impeccable; his bearing is dignified, and 
his bearing towards other beasts is full of the utmost 
good-natured tolerance. 

The great trouble in the giraffe’s life is his grotesque 
figure. His legs are long and stiff, and his neck is 
limber. He has no way to make a single sound of 
warning or complaint and nature has endowed him 
with no practicable means of defense. I have heard 
it said that a giraffe can put up quite a fight with his 
forelegs, but I seriously doubt it. He just isn’t built 
for fighting. ; 


102 SAFARI 


Time and again my heart has been wrung by the 
sight of a giraffe that has become prey to one of the 
big flesh-eating animals. Once I came upon one with 
the flesh ripped from its haunches, dying. There was 
no sign ofa fight. Apparently the lion had left but a 
few moments before, as the animal’s big brown eyes 
were not yet glazed by death. 

Another time I came upon a mother giraffe and her 
baby which must have been born only the night 
before. I was able to get right up to the pair because 
the baby was not afraid and refused to follow its 
mother. She must have been expecting us to attack 
her any moment but she stuck it out and didn’t leave 
until her infant would go with her. 

The leopard is a killer. He is the gunman of the 
jungle. Also he is full of mystery: he makes little or 
no noise in his activities, and he charges unexpectedly 
—a sinister shadow from nowhere, bringing death 
with his final leap. 

The leopard is not so dignified as the lion, nor is he 
quite so sneaky as the hyena. He is a solitary 
worker, without companions and without the trust of 
any other animal in the jungle. 

He does not have the courage always to eat in the 
open as the lion does. He kills and carries his prey 
away. He will carry up a tree an antelope weighing 
half again as much as himself, lugging the carcass over 
hisshoulderas a highwayman might carry a bag of loot. 


WILDERNESS FOLK 103 


One instance will show the deadly nature of this 
fellow. I was some distance from camp with our 
truck one day. Rattray of the British settlement 
was with us. Osa shot a zebra, but unfortunately 
only wounded it. 

“Let me get it for you,’ suggested Rattray, who 
hopped out while he was speaking. He took his gun 
and started off in the direction of the wounded 
animal. 

The zebra had fallen near some brush. Rattray 
said afterward that the first thing he saw was a grey 
shadow crouched behind the neck of the animal. 
The next thing he knew this shadow was sweeping 
toward him over the ground almost with the speed of 
a bird. It was absolutely noiseless as it came. He 
knew at once it was a full-grown leopard charging 
him. He fired and missed. The next cartridge of 
his double-barreled piece failed to go off. In another 
instant the leopard was upon him with its fangs at his 
throat. 

When we rescued the poor chap his clothes and 
flesh were ripped horribly from head to foot. It 
was two years before he finally recovered from this 
assault. 

On the trail of lions and leopards we always find 
jackal and hyena. The natives say that the former 
are special friends of lions and help them to find their 
prey. I do know that I have seen a jackal quietly 


104 SAFARI © 

wait a few feet away for a lion to have his fill of a 
carcass and then come up for a meal without 
objection from the larger animal. This, the natives 
say, is the way the lion pays the jackal for his help. 

But the wretched hyena does not stand in so well. 
I have seen one slink up when he thought the lion 
had gone away. Scarcely had he begun to feed when 
the big cat was after him. Once under such circum- 
stances I saw a lion overtake a hyena and administer 
a blow that must have maimed the scalawag for life. 

Around our Lake Paradise home we have 
thousands of baboons. Not all are in one herd, but 
in smaller groups or clans. In a way they are the 
most entertaining of all the animals we know, because 
they are grotesquely like human beings. 

They are forever screeching and rowing and fight- 
ing among themselves when they turn in at night. 
Apparently there is a new series of combats every 
evening to see who will get the best crotches and 
branches for sleeping on. 

In one of our nearest groups there is a big male 
whom I have come to know because he seems so to 


resent the presence of Osa and me in the neighbor- — 


hood. He chatters and shakes his long arms when 
he sees us, and retreats, hurling maledictions on our 
heads. 

_ The baby baboons are very cute, but lead a terrible 
life, being mauled all over the place by their elders. 


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Wherever they go or whatever they do they are cuffed 
and abused not only by parents but also by distant 
friends and relatives. 

There are many other animals we know and like 
and live with or near from day today. And all have 
distinct personalities. Not all, however, do we know 
well enough to see in them those fascinating traits 
that make life in Africa so full of charm. For 
instance there is the happy gentle gazelle, with its 
tail that is always wagging. We had a pet one fora 
while until he drifted away into the jungle and never 
came back. There are the birds and the rare 
animals, such as the okapi; there are the strange 
reptiles, not by any means so repulsive as is often 
thought. 

After all, man, about whom our thoughts so closely 
revolve, is in God’s eyes just another animal. 


CHAPTER VII 
OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 


NE day at Paradise my Meru carpenter came 

running to the door of my laboratory very 

much excited and shouting in Swahili: ‘“‘Elephants! 
Elephants!” 

This wasn’t exactly news, for the woods about us 
were full of the big animals. But I grabbed my big 
Akeley camera and tripod and followed the man to 
the back of the shack, hoping as usual to get some- 
thing out of the ordinary. There in the open scrub 
about two hundred yards away were fifteen elephants, 
several bulls, four or five cows, three half-grown 
animals and two babies. They were all just feeding 
along as comfortably as could be. 

Of course, I started to grind out film. When I 
had turned down about two hundred feet what was 
my surprise to see Osa duck up between me and the 
elephants and shout: ‘‘What are you doing? Have 
you gone crazy?’’ There she was, weeding her straw- 
berries in the garden not a hundred yards from the 
herd of wild elephants and blissfully ignorant of its 
presence. Our calling back and forth, and the move- 


ments of the boys about the camp finally caused the 
106 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 107 


beasts to move on down toward the lake; but not 
before I had another good view filmed of elephant life. 

Years ago in Kansas as a small boy, long before I 
ever dreamed I’d go to Africa to live, I watched the 
big greyish black beasts waddle by on circus day with 
their curious shuffling walk. They looked so slow 
and stupid, so indifferent to what went on about 
them, so grotesquely out of place amid the trumpery 
of civilization, that even as a small boy I wondered 
vaguely what they might be like in their own native 
haunts. 

As I grew older I picked up the traditional beliefs 
about the elephant. I learned to think of him asa 
mixture of viciousness and sagacity when he was 
aroused, and as a profoundly dumb brute when left 
to his own devices. I knew he was trained at hauling 
teak in India and at doing meaningless tricks in 
America. 

I heard many tales of the elephant’s power. of 
memory and desire for revenge. ‘Don’t feed the 
elephant”’ was a sign we all knew was based on the 
fact the beast might become violent if given red 
pepper instead of peanuts. An elephant killed a man 
in Brooklyn who burned his tusk with his lighted 
cigar. ‘‘Alice,” one of the New York Zoo collection 
vented her anger by rushing into the Reptile House 
and throwing to the concrete floor glass show cases 
filled with poisonous snakes. And so on. 


108 SAFARI 


To the lay eye, the African elephant seems the same 
animal as the Indian elephant, which is the species 
always seen in circuses. The reason for this choice 
is that the Hindu for centuries has domesticated 
elephants for purposes of labor and transportation. 
An African native shrinks from such intimacy with 
the huge quadrupeds. Hence the African elephant 
has long had cause to fear man, if only through 
constant threat of the ivory hunters. 

We don’t shoot elephants or anything else at 
Lake Paradise. Our chief work consists solely of 
filming wild game in its natural habitat. Asa result 
there has grown up among the elephant herds in our 
vicinity none of the terror and vindictiveness so 
often reported from India where herds attack native 
villages en masse and do terrible damage. 

Two incidents, while somewhat extreme, illustrate 
what I mean. About twenty years ago a train on 
the railway in Burma was attacked by an elephant. 
The engineer whistled as he took a grade. A big bull 
elephant feeding nearby interpreted the blast as a 
challenge. He loudly trumpeted his acceptance of 
the invitation to do battle. He lowered his head and 
made for the oncoming train. Once on the tracks he 
met it almost exactly head-on. The engineer had no 
time to stop. Probably he was so dumbfounded by 
the sight of the huge beast galloping towards him 
that he was powerless to act. Engine and elephant 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 109 


collided with a terrific crash. The latter’s mhssive 
head was caved in and he was instantly killed. But 
the momentum of his enormous carcass weighing 
several tons did its work. The engine was derailed 
and its front end crushed to a shapeless mass. 

Contrast the atmosphere around Lake Paradise 
where Osa rushed in one morning from her garden 
with flushed face and flashing eyes exclaiming: 

“‘Oh, I think it’s mean of them!”’ 

“Who?” I snapped, wondering angrily if the 
natives had been misbehaving. 

“Those elephants. They’ve been at my vegetable 
garden again!”’ 

Wild elephants, too; wild and free as the mammoth 
and mastodon were in their day, and nearly as big. 

As I said before, I think our guide Boculy knows 
more about elephants than any man living. He 
could study a single elephant track and usually in a 
few minutes tell me just how many there were in the 
herd, where they had gone, what they were doing and 
what we should do to find and photograph them. 

He was an absolutely tireless fellow. Indeed he 
never could understand any of the rest of us getting 
tired. Time and again he walked us for three or four 
hours up and down hills and across rough sun- 
scorched stones, until we would call a halt in sheer 
exhaustion. 

He was never at a loss for a reply if I tried to hurry 


110 SAFARI 


him. " When we halted in case we had not already 
found game, I would usually say, ‘Now let’s go 
where the game has gone, Boculy.”’ 

To which he would invariably reply: “‘But Master, 
they are not there.”’ 

He had a lot of queer maxims. If he failed for a 
considerable time to find elephants he would say one 
of three things was the cause: 


“Shauri ako”... Business caused by you (the 
white man). 

‘“Shauri Muunga” ... Business caused by God. 

“Shauri mvua.” ... Business caused by rain. 


When he made up his mind that we were not find- 
ing game for one of these reasons he usually insisted 
on giving up the hunt for the day and would not look 
any further. 

Early in our stay I explained to Boculy how I 
planned to do a lot of photographic work of animals 
from the protection of blinds. This, I told him, 
would give me a chance to observe them in an 
undisturbed state. But he only grinned and said 
something about my not knowing what I was saying. 
Sure enough he proved to be correct. For the finest 
films of elephants which I took were made right out 
in the open. 

I had many a lesson in trailing elephants from 
Boculy without his knowing it. One day he walked 
along looking at some tracks which were at least 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS III 


twenty-four hours old. He was talking to himself 
most of the time. Now and then he would stop and 
look at the track and point in the direction he evi- 
dently thought the animal might have gone. He 
would then pick a twig,or leaf up and name the hour 
it had been chewed on. Presently he was tracking 
over short grass where there wasn’t a single sign 
visible to my untrained eye, not a smear of mud or 
dirt left by the animal’s foot. Finally he would 
take scent like a bloodhound, go off like an arrow and 
in a few minutes turn around with a grin, pointing to 
the elephant he had been following. It was uncanny. 
sometimes he had arguments with himself when he 
didn’t come on the elephants as soon as he thought he 
ought to. He’d stop and look at the ground and say, 
“‘yes, yes.” Then shake his head and slowly say, 
“‘No, no.” At last he would suddenly exclaim, 
“ Yes!”’ with conviction and we would be off to find 
another herd of elephants before an hour passed. 
When the time came for us seriously to take the 
trail we didn’t have to go far for a great deal of our 
best film. I simply talked things over with Boculy, 
decided on how and where we should operate and 
organized my safari, or field expedition, to suit. 
There was one particular herd I had been wanting 
to get at formonths. It wasn’t large; but there were 
some young ones in it which I wanted to photo- 
graph. We finally set off after it fully equipped » 


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112 SAFARI 


with plenty of porters for our gear and with food for — 


about two weeks’ travel. 

We camped near the edge of the jungle after a 
march of nearly twenty miles. About five the next 
morning Boculy woke us. He whispered something 
about elephants in my ear. I hurried out of the tent 
and saw ten elephants walking quietly along about 
four hundred yards away. Two were so young that 
they looked like Christmas toys. They were 
toddling, bumping up against their mothers and 
stopping and turning around just like children on a 
street. Each mother would turn around every now 
and then and slap her offspring with her trunk. 
This would make the little fellow squeal and he would 
trot along obediently again. 

Two more were about six months old. They were 
very solemn, even more so than the grown-up ones. 
But every now and then they would get bored with 
the march they were on and start to wander off. A 
severe grunt from one of the cle ones would bring 
them back into line. 

We hustled around and got our cameras ready. 


It was still too dark to photograph but I thought we | 


could follow without the animals seeing us, especially 
as the wind was from them to us. 

Just before the sun came up the whole line walked 
along the top of a small hill. They came to a halt. 
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OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 18K} 


picture, a picture of which I have often dreamed. 
I had seen films of camels silhouetted against the sky. 
At last I could make one of elephants. I lost no time 
in doing so. F 

We left camp after breakfast. About an hour 
later we were stopped suddenly by Boculy, who 
stepped softly back with his hand raised for silence. 
Ahead of us were seven elephants, just beside the 
trail. I ran back a few steps and motioned for the 
camera boys to hurry. We set up the cameras as 
quickly as we could, but the elephants walked into the 
brush, feeding as they went. 

I had just about decided that they were going to 
have a sleep under cover when I heard a noise on the 
other side of the trail. More elephants had come up. 
I crept ahead and saw three. They, too, were 
settling down for a sleep in the dark forest where it 
would be impossible to make pictures. Boculy was 
annoyed with me. He could never understand that I 
needed plenty of light for pictures. He thought my 
magic box ought to be able to see in the dark as well 
as in the light, certainly if it were magic enough to 
reproduce moving creatures months later. 

We didn’t dare disturb the elephants. Had they 
stampeded us we never could have escaped them. 
There were no trees to climb and their anger at being 
waked up would have been uncontrollable. I had 
the cameras gathered up and hurried my party along ~ 


114 SAFARI 


the trail, hoping that we should meet some elephants 
which were not yet bound for bed. The heat 
probably was making them all sleepy. Hardly had 
we started when we ran into three more right ahead 
of us. 

“You stay here,’’ whispered Boculy, who wanted 
to reconnoitre. 

I agreed but wanted him to take a gun bearer with 
him. He shook his head. It was pretty brave of 
him. He never would have stopped a stampede. 
He would have been crushed to a pulp in two minutes 
if the animals had started his way. 

Hardly had he gone ten feet when I saw him jump 
into the air with a smothered exclamation. I ran 
ahead a few steps. Right there beside him was the 
largest cobra I had ever seen. It was at least ten feet 
long and as big around as my arm; it was lying flat, 
not coiled, as one would expect. Its head was about 
two feet from the ground and its neck was spread out 
larger than my hand in anger. 

Boculy retreated trembling all over. He could 
hardly speak he was so terrified. He was not scared 
of elephants but snakes always frightened him. 
Hoping to chase the reptile off the trail he carefully 
selected a stick from some dead brush beside the trail 
and threw it at the creature. The snake struck 
viciously at the piece just as it fell. We could have 
shot it, but did not want to disturb the elephants. 


=." = 


= i = Pe be 4 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 115 


While this snake interlude was going on we made 
so much noise that we waked up the herd. The first 
thing we knew twenty or thirty of the big animals 
were screaming and snorting around us, crashing over 
trees, banging into one another, and creating 
a general pandemonium. Luckily for us they 
decided to run away. Two minutes later they had 
disappeared. Once more the jungle silence had 
descended. Even the cobra vanished. 

This is one of the thrills of our work. It is never 
possible to tell whether the death with which we are 
surrounded in many forms is going to descend upon 
us or going to evaporate. Whichever happens it 
usually happens quickly and without much warning. 

We found the trees full of baboons on our way 
home. I could not photograph them on account of 
the places they rested, always under a shady branch. 
Anyway they seemed pretty insignificant after 
elephants. They were all chattering and squabbling 
with each other, which meant they were happy and 
undisturbed. 

After supper Osa and I strolled a few hundred feet 
from camp into the forest. The trees went way 
up into the skies, so high that the stars seem to nestle 
in their topmost branches. Every tree was straight 
as an arrow, with not a limb until almost at the top. 

We walked along back to camp slowly without 
speaking. We were still thinking about the 


116 SAFARI 


elephants. Suddenly there was a terrific uproar in 
the tops of the trees. A large bunch of baboons 
had settled down for sleep. When they saw us, 
they came shinning down the trees all around us. 
Some of them slid down in such a rush that their 
hands and feet must have been blistered. Some- 
times six or seven would collide with one or another, 
landing on each other’s heads and shoulders, all 
falling to the ground in a bunch. Others would 
jump when they got near the ground, landing with a 
grunt and a thud. : 

Babies fell off their mothers’ shoulders. Others 
were abandoned in the tree-tops, screaming and 
crying and trying to scramble down. I saw one 
mother, torn between curiosity and love of her baby, 
glance first at us and then back into the tree-tops. 
Finally her mother instinct got control and she 
clambered back to her little one while we went along 
to bed. 

It might be interesting to record just what boys 
accompany us each day on these jaunts. Here is our 
usual list: 


2 Camera bearers. 

1 Tripod bearer, carrying two tripods. 

I Boy with the lens case. 

I Boy with the Press Graflex and tripod. 

I Boy with a case of loaded film magazines. 
1 Boy with two cases of loaded plate holders. 


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ME LS i ee ae 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 117 


1 Boy with 4 x 5 Graflex and tripod. 

1 Boy with case of odds and ends: ray filters, 
tools, oil, medicine case, extra spools. 

1 Boy carrying lunch. 

My gun bearer. 

Osa’s gun bearer. 

Boculy and Bukhari. 


Each boy knows his duty. All withdraw to a 
shady spot behind me while I am taking pictures, 
but each one is on the alert, ready to bring me what- 
ever case he has been carrying. Each case is num- 
bered and I call for it by number. The gun bearers 
crawl along the ground to get beside me in the event of 
danger. 

As time went on we had a chance to study 
individual elephants and their behaviors. One of 
the most entertaining sights was always a female 
elephant with her baby. An elephant is weirdly 
proportioned in every direction, from its curling 
trunk to its silly little tail, When its features are 
reduced to miniature, as in the young animal, few 
more comical sights can be seen. True, there are 
young elephants in the zoo. But there the mothers 
need show little of the assiduous care we so often 
see in Africa. : 

I remember coming on a number of elephants 
one broiling hot summer day on the plains. One 
mother was accompanied by a baby that could have 


118 SAFARI 


been but afew days old. The little one was suffering 
pitifully from the heat. It whined and wobbled 
and persistently refused to keep pace with the older 
animals. Finally the mother lost all patience with it. 
She knew just what to do. Pausing at a nearby 
waterhole she proceeded to give her toto regular jungle 
heat treatment. First she butted the little fellow off 
his balance and held him down with her big forefoot 
while he lay squawking. Then she sucked up a 
trunkful of mud and squirted it all over the suffering 
infant’s body. Despite his protests she repeated 
this performance again and again until her baby 
must have been greatly recovered. 

Surely elephant parents are the most tolerant in 
the world. I have seen them submit to all kinds of 
inconvenience on the trail from skylarking young- 
sters. But when the adult’s patience becomes 
exhausted, chastisement with trunk or butting head 
is always sure to follow. 

A young elephant holds to its mother’s tail with its 
trunk when passing through long grass just as a child 
holds its mother’s hand. When she pauses in the 
shade of a tree it goes to nursing just like any calf. 
Strange to say, an elephant’s udder is at the front 
end of her body. 

One day about noon we were almost on the edge of 
the desert we came upon three full-grown females, one 
half-grown male,,and one little toto, the smallest 


. 
“vee alas 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 119 


elephant I have ever seen; it could not have been 
‘more than a week old. Osa nearly cried out, she 
wanted it so badly; but she controlled herself, though 
I could see that she was trembling with eagerness and 
delight in the way she has when anything strikes her 
as particularly beautiful or cunning. 

They had not caught either sight or scent of us and 
I placed my cameras, grinding away, as they went 
through their maneuvers. First the four older 
ones would walk ahead, then pause to wait for the 
little toto, which would come running up like a 
clumsy little pup, back off, then charge under his 
mother for its dinner. Then it would lie down 
lazily and the others would considerately wait until 
it had had its nap out or they thought it had had 
enough. Then the three would start off, the mother 
nudging it gently until the little one would at last get 
up and join the others. All then journeyed slowly 
on until they reached a mud puddle. Here they lay 
down, rolled and threw mud over each other, the baby 
having as good a time as any of them. 

While they were playing I had left my first station 
and crept up to a bush behind them. But the 
quick-witted mother, catching the move, turned to 
the baby, which had trotted off towards me, threw 
her trunk around it and held it tight for a few seconds, 
at last giving it a little slap with her trunk, as much 
as to say. ‘‘Here, cut that out. Don’t you go running 


120 SAFARI 


away or you'll get into trouble!” This done, off 
they started again, in little stages, always waiting 
for the baby, who was forever playing, to come up; 
and so they disappeared in the forest. 

Not long after we saw another small herd; but as 
we were in the open and in plain view, one of the 
mothers in the case discovered us. A moment she 
stood uncertainly not knowing what to do; but at 
last decided to return into the forest, first turning 
just before she disappeared and looking at us as if 
daring us to follow. A moment later we heard her 
scream, with an accompanying little tin whistle effect 
from her baby. For several minutes after they dis- 
appeared we could hear the screaming of the big 
females and a flock of babies trying out their new 
trumpets. 

From time to time we had adventures with single 
elephants. In a way these were more interesting 
because they gave us a different angle on elephant 
character. With a big herd around one had to keep 
so much on the outlook that detailed observation 
was difficult. | 

One morning we fell in with a big bull wandering 
about by himself. We sighted him some distance 
away feeding amongst some young trees. Through 
the glasses we could see him bending the thin trunks 
down and nibbling the tender leaves. 

Skirting the spot widely we put the wind right so it 


Npvoroso HuntveERs. 


These hunters came to tell us of game outside the forests. We were many months 
in getting their confidence so that we could talk to them, but after they became used to 
us they would often bring us news of game migrationsin return for salt and sugar. These 
Ndorobo are not of any one tribe. In fact, every tribe hasits Ndorobo people who break 
away from the tribal laws and wander over Africa, living by the bow and arrow and spear. 


A Lumspwa WaRrRRIOR. 


These Lumbwa area cast-off from the Nanditribe. They are not afraid of anything 
on earth and would rather fight than eat. I have found that they have more character 
than any African tribe I have ever met. 


a) a 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 121 


would blow from him to us and not reveal our 
presence. An elephant supposedly has poor eye- 
sight, although I have a suspicion this theory may be 
one to his natural indifference to other living beings, 
acquired through centuries of practical immunity 
from attack. At any rate, it is sometimes possible 
to get right up to him if one watches the wind. The 


trouble is that on a hot calm day little breezes whirl - 


about so capriciously one is betrayed no matter how 
much trouble is taken. We hustled the camera 
boys and gun bearers along until we were within 
about fifty yards of the big fellow. Our safari 
column was well away and there seemed to be no 
other game present except the elephant. This was 
providential because it meant that he would likely go 
on about his business long enough for us to make a 
good film and plenty of stills. 

Luck played into ourhands. Gradually our jumbo 
wandered closer and closer. Osa was bursting with 


excitement. The natives could scarcely restrain 


their exclamations of delight as well as of appre- 
hension. The high point came when he was little 
more than twenty feet away, literally towering above 
us. He chose a tree that was too strong for him to 
break with his trunk, so he put his brains to work as 
well as his muscles. Pulling the sapling down as far 
as it would go with his trunk, he held it with his tusks 
while he reached up and got a new hold. He 


“ 


122 SAFARI 


repeated this twice. Finally the tree snapped and he 
wrestled the whole upper part down to the ground. 
Slowly he went to work among the leafy branches, 
selecting the tender young shoots and buds. It was 
superb! 

When he had eaten all he wanted he walked around 
the tree and came directly toward us. As there was 
no use taking any more movies, I had Osa pick up her 
rifle while I used the still camera. About the third 
snap the elephant suddenly saw us. He stopped so 
abruptly that his huge bulk swayed in our direction. 

Now he did the things an elephant does when he 
is startled. His great fan ears went out as if to 
catch the slightest whisper of sound. His long trunk 
projected forward, waving sinuously in the air like a 
black snake while he sniffed away for some telltale 
odor that would reveal the identify of the strange 
intruders on his meal. 

We did not move. Osa stood braced and ready 
to shoot if the fellow charged. The boys bravely 
held their ground. I “shot” another still or two in 
order to record the fine picture of elephantine 
curiosity before me. 


Now we witnessed a characteristic of the dignity 


of these animals. A rhino would at once have 
charged angrily or have galloped off in cowardly 
fashion. One of the cat family, a lion or a leopard, 
would have lashed itself into a fury. A giraffe 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 123 


or zebra would have changed its mind half a dozen 
times, advancing and retreating until it dashed off in 
a panic of fright. Not so the elephant. 

After a long smell and the best look its little beady 
eyes could take, the elephant backed a pace or two, 
then slowly turned and walked deliberately away. 
He was not angry; neither was he afraid. He had 
probably never been shot at in his life. Had he 
decided we were enemies he would have charged; we 
knew this by sad experience. We were very thankful 
that he didn’t, as we were right out in the open with 
no cover or refuge. 

Not long after this we fell in with another elephant 
that took our presence in a much more animated 
fashion. He was feeding like the first one. But 
the background was different, and he behaved as if he 
were really wide awake. So I determined to film 
him. I managed to get the cameras set up in a wide 
open space before he saw us. As Osa was tired out 
after a hard morning she stayed back on the top of a 
high rock from which she could watch the surround- 
ing country. In a few minutes the elephant started 
coming in our direction. At a distance of about 
thirty yards he backed off to the tree from which he 
had been eating. But he was too nervous to continue 
his meal. 

Once more he came to investigate us, walking in 
comical little goose steps as though ready to charge 


124 SAFARI 


or to run at the slightest provocation. About fifty 
feet away he began circling to get our wind. His 
short black tail waved stiffly in the air and his trunk 
was out. Finally he got a sniff of us. He didn’t like 
it. He began to lash his tail and stamp the ground. 
His trunk swung angrily to and fro. But he couldn’t 
for the life of him make up his mind to charge. When 
about forty feet from us he ran back a few yards, then 
whirled and came at us again. He had his head 
held high in the peculiar way elephants have when 
they are angry. He did this four times. 

All the while I was getting priceless films. Finally 
the old warrior lost his nerve. I think it was the fact 
that we did not retreat which undermined his courage 
as much as anything. He just turned around all 
of a sudden and ran as fast as he could for the nearest 
cover. 

When we got back we found that Osa had been 
crying. Through the glasses she had seen another 
elephant throwing water over itself from a waterhole. 
He then came in the direction where we were making 
pictures. He saw us photographing the other ele- 
phant and seemed about ready to charge. Osa was 
terrified that he would get us before we saw him. 

Not all our encounters ended sotamely. One day, 
very early in our African experiences, Boculy came — 
running into camp. I could tell he was excited 
because of the way his hands moved around. He 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 125 


kept lifting them and letting them fall and then grip- 
ping his fingers. He was saying thingsin short jerks. 

“Big elephants,’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘All together. 
Very quiet.” 

By that we knew the elephants were feeding and 
not looking for trouble. 

I called to Osa to get her rifle. In five minutes 
our gun bearers were under way with pieces slung 
on their shoulders. The camera boys were swinging 
up their heavy loads. 

In fifteen minutes we were up to the herd. The 
animals were out in the open. If we had posed 
them they couldn’t have been better placed for a 
picture. There were three big cows and two bulls. 
Two younger ones wandered around, bumping up 
against the legs of their elders and grunting funny 
little high pitched grunts. One of the bulls was a 
fine tusker. His gleaming ivory showed milk white 
in the sun. 

This time Osa took the crank while I went forward 
as “movie director’ to start action among the 
animals. I was afraid for her to go forward. There 
was no cover in case the beasts charged. 

She cranked away for all she was worth while I 
walked gingerly toward the herd. The-first thing I 
knew the big bull saw me. He raised his trunk and 
spread out his ears, shifting his feet about angrily. 
He snorted. Then with a furious grunt he charged. 


126 SAFARI 


Iran. Sometimes we got our picture under such 
circumstances and then stopped the elephants by 
yelling and waving our hands. This time I was too 
close and the elephant gaining too fast. I swung 
about and tried to dodge. It was the only thing I 
could do to save my life. But my strategy was 
futile. The bull came right on forme. Like sheep, 
the other seven elephants tore after him. To my 
surprise there were about a dozen more behind 
these seven which we hadn’t seen. Elephants 
seemed everywhere and they were all headed for us. 

Osa was scared stiff but she kept turning the crank. 
She knew she was getting a superb picture and there 
was nothing she could do about me yet. 

By the time I reached the camera the elephants 
were only a few feet behind. Osa’s gun bearer had 
been at her elbow every instant. Now with one 
quick motion she took her rifle from him and fired. 
It was an easy shot so far as a target went. Her 
target was as big as a barn. But it took a lot of 
nerve to stand there and shoot under the circum- 
stances—shoot and hit a fatal spot. 

Her shot didn’t kill the elephant at once but it 
diverted him from his murderous course. He nearly 
knocked the camera down when he passed it. He 
fell a little further on. The herd hesitated for a 
moment. Then all turned and ran. 

Another time we were forced to shoot because the 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 127 


boys became excited. We had reached the camp 
after a hard day when the guides reported that a 
herd of elephants had kept just ahead of them all 
day. While we were eating Boculy went out to recon- 
noitre. Ten minutes later he rushed back with word 
that the herd was right near camp. Tired as we 
were, we went right after them. It was ideal photo- 
graphic country because the bushes were small and 
far apart. 

In fifteen minutes we saw the elephants, fifteen of 
them, feeding about and taking things easy. The 
light was fine. I set up the cameras, intending to get 
closer after I was allready. But when the elephants 
started our way I decided to remain where I was. 
First came a young female, and behind her in single 
file the others, mostly half grown, and one toto about 
nine months old. 

The leading animal saw us when she was about 
sixty yards away. She stopped and the others 
crowded behind her. I think she was the only one 
that really saw us. She stuck out her ears and came on 
several times in little goose steps; then backed away 
and worked herself into a rage the way an elephant 
| usually does under such circumstances. She lashed 
her trunk and stamped her feet. The others seemed 
unconcerned through this performance, showing only 
slight signs of curiosity as to what it was all about. 

Then all at once I could see her gather herself just 


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128 SAFARI saa) 
like arunner. This time she charged. At the same — 
moment the film zan out of my magazine and I ~ 
started to load again, knowing that Boculy or Bukhari 
would stop the beast in time. Meanwhile Osa was 
making stills. But when the elephant got within 
fifty yards she grabbed her gun. Then, un- 
expectedly, at a distance of twenty yards Boculy 
shot, then Bukhari. Boculy shot again, each time 
knocking the charging elephant to her knees. On 
the last round I yelled for them to stop shooting. 
Then I read the riot act to the two boys because 
they should have waited until the other white man 
with us, Mr. Saunderson, had decided to shoot. 
It is one of the worst crimes a black can commit 
in Africa, to shoot before his Bwana. Had they been 
alone with meit would have been allright. Happily, 
the female ran away with the herd and Saunderson : 
assured me that her only wound was a flesh one 
on her trunk. | 

Osa had her own private experiences with the | 
cameras and elephants. Without telling me, one a 
day, she took what she thought was my best Graflex 
and walked over to the Old Lady Waterhole, two 
miles from our camp. The camera was carried in a 
black leather case swung over the shoulder of her . 
black boy. A bull elephant, two females, and a — : j 
little toto were having a great time here, throwing : 
water all over themselves, shower-fashion, with their 


A SLEEPY OLp ELEPHANT IN THE NORTHERN GAME RESERVE. 


The Northern Game Reserve is close to the Abyssinian border. The weight of this 
elephant’s tusks is about eighty pounds each, totaling one hundred and sixty pounds. 
As ivory brings about five dollars a pound weight in Nairobi, it can be understood why 
elephant hunting is popular. 


BErorr THE CHARGE. 


There were fifteen elephants in this sleepy herd, although only one—a big female—was 
awareof us. We hadour cameras set up onatrail and she came up three times ready to 
charge. Each timeshe lost her nerve and turned back with the herd drowsily following. 
It was a peculiar situation, for she was as alert and as angry as an elephant ever gets, while 
the rest of the herd was not aware of us until the lady charged on the fourth attempt 
and we had to shoot her—just as my film ran out. The others then stampeded away. 


eee ee ee eee en eS ee 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 129 


trunks; and the mother was giving a bath to her 
baby. After the infant was bathed and dried in the 
sun, he made for his mother’s udder, and nursed 
away, both mother and child as happy as you please. 
The old bull walked bravely about, raising his trunk 
and stripping the buds from the trees. Now and 
then he uprooted a sapling, much as a boy leaps over 
_a gate from sheer joy of living or to show his strength. 
It was altogether a happy family party. 

Often on the plains the light is not favorable, for 
the heat waves, which amateurs mistake for light, 
prevent clarity. But here conditions were excellent. 
Osa, too, had taken pains to get to the windward 
of the elephants, not always an easy task where the 
breezes curl and eddy through the dongas. Now she 
asked her boy to hand over the camera, her eye still 
on the happy group, determined to surprise me with 
an unusual picture. But when she looked down at 
the black leather case which she supposed to be a 
camera, she discovered to her horror that she had 
brought our medicine case along instead of the 
Graflex. She spent two hours that evening telling 
me what a beautiful picture she might have had. 

One thing I often noticed about elephants was 
what seemed to be a sort of mental telepathy that 
went on between them. I have seen this sort of 
thing so many times that I have wondered if it were 
possible there could be some sort of wireless oper- 


130 SAFARI 


ation that goes on. The elephants have very stiff 
hairs in their ears and in their nostrils. These could 
readily be used as antennze to catch emanations 
that the human being is quite unconscious of. 

On many occasions I have seen an elephant, 
separated by perhaps several hundred yards from the 
rest of the herd, seemingly warn his comrades of a 
danger he himself has discovered. It almost seemed 
that he sent some mental signal to the others, for they 
would suddenly become restless and alarmed, even 
though I am sure they could not see the lone ele- 
phant nor discover the danger for themselves. 

One night Osa and I were in our blind down in the 
mimosa near the lake with the moon shining between 
the drifting clouds, waiting to see what would turn 
up. About 11.30 P.M. Osa nudged me. Four hun- 
dred yards to the left of us appeared a long file of 
elephants. They walked to a spot not far from our 
flashlight apparatus and stopped there for about 
five minutes with their long trunks up in the air 
waving about as if for a scent. Then one elephant 
left the crowd and walked very slowly down towards 
the water. He would go about fifteen feet, then 
stop and wave his trunk about; then go on a bit 
more. We could see him so plainly that he gave us 
the impression of being distinctly puzzled, feeling 
there was something wrong, but not sure what it was. 

Then this investigator walked back to the rest of 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 131 


the herd and for about fifteen minutes they all held a 
sort of conference. Not a sound, mind you; just a 
standing quietly around as if whispering together. 
I know they could not have seen the apparatus, for 
I had it perfectly concealed. It wasn’t the wind 
either; our position was such that it would not have 
been possible for the wind to have blown from us to 
them. Nevertheless some sense told this elephant 
that something was wrong, but what he wasn’t sure. 
Moreover, he was not going to advise his friends to 
take a chance. Finally, they all quietly made their 
way to the water by a route that took them around 
the cameras. After a good drink they melted sound- 
lessly into the forest and we got no picture. 

As time went on the elephants got bolder whenever 
their food dried up in the forest. Every night we 
would see them and they would trumpet through 
the evening hours, as they crashed through the boma, 
until they came alongside our house and caught the 
human scent. 

One old lady developed the habit of breaking into 
our garden. The drought now had dried everything 
up but the sweet potatoes, which like camels can go 
a long time without water. 

This elephant was particularly orderly and system- 
atic, choosing a space of about ten feet square and 
eating ten feet square of sweet potatoes, then going 
away without disturbing any of the surrounding 


132 SAFARI 


plants. In this care she differed from almost every 
wild animal I have known. 

We noticed that she entered the boma, the thorns 
of which did not seem to make much impression on 
her leathern hide, at a hole she made alongside a great 
yellowwood tree. There we set up our wires and 
cameras and we had just gone to bed when we heard 
the boom and ran out taking our rifles with us. In 
the woods nearby we heard a terrific thrashing and 
found that the elephant had carted away about four 
square yards of our boma, from which she was trying 
to free herself. 7 

So thrilled were we at the prospect of another good 
elephant picture that we took our plates to the 
laboratory as we were, in our pajamas, and there 
developed them. They came out wonderfully sharp 
and clear, showing two elephants apparently; in 
reality only one, for we had caught the sweet potato 
thief going and coming. 

This lady, we thought, would not visit us again, 
but next night we heard the boom and found that 
this crazy elephant had rushed away with four more 
square yards of our fence. Again we developed 
the films in our pajamas, getting a thrill out of it, 
I think, that no slaughtering hunter knows. 

We felt sure that now we had seen the last of her. 
Still, elephants are of one track minds; they keep 
on coming in spite of all obstacles. And again, this 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 133 


third evening, we heard a breaking of branches on 
the edge of the forest, and a general thrashing around 
and found the same matriarch grazing contentedly, 
pulling down her branches and nipping off the shoots. 
No big booms of flashlights were going to disturb 
her; and to show that she was not afraid, she walked 
through the hole in the boma which she had just 
made and went along the row of houses, where the 
boys slept, like a runaway elephant going up a town 
street; and quietly proceeded to strip off one of the 
thatchings as a final gesture of independence. It 
must have been startling for the boys to wake up 
and see the roofs being slowly lifted off above their 
heads and in a moment we heard a succession of cries 
and the straw huts disgorged frightened black figures 
that ran, tripped, and tumbled on all fours all up and 
down the narrow path. 

This, of course, was trying even though it enabled 
us to study the ways of elephants. And indeed 
hers were not the usual ways of elephants. Every 
part of the garden was reeking with the scent of 
the boys, which would not have disturbed the ele- 
phants of Siam and India, who are trained in 
captivity to draw great trunks of teakwood trees 
and to plow, but almost always send their wild 
brothers of Africa crashing through the trees. The 
boys solved the problem by saying simply that that 
““tembo”’ was crazy. 


134 SAFARI 


We gradually became so accustomed to elephants 
that we felt far less fear of them than we should 
have. A curious experience some time later showed 
that it is not safe in Africa ever to be off guard. 

We started out one morning for a donga several 
miles away and on the trail noticed a grass fire a 
considerable distance from us. About Io A.M. Osa 
spotted four elephants in the donga below us, one 
young bull and three females. I got to work with my 
camera and inside of thirty minutes had used every 
lens, from the shortest focus to the longest. By 
this time the elephants had decided to graze. They 
left the trees and came out into the opening, slowly 
gathering grass and throwing it over them, now and 
then pulling up a young tree. 

Suddenly we were made aware of the unexpected 
approach of the fire by a sudden roar of flames. 
Apparently the conflagration had almost died out at 
a small donga beyond the elephants; but on crossing 
it had come to dry grass as high as our heads. Now 
it swept down on us with the speed of a train. We 
were standing on a small peninsula of land where the 
donga took a turn. Before we knew it we found 
ourselves entirely cut off; in every direction the grass 
was on fire, already scorching us with its heat. 
There was but one thing to do, and that was to go 
over the little cliff nearby and take our chances with 
the elephants. 


OUR BACKYARD CIRCUS 135 


I am still wondering how we escaped broken necks 
and cameras. We all went over the top together, 
falling and scrambling down the cliff towards the 
elephants. The latter whirled about and stood 
with trunks out and ears up. At this moment they, 
too, got the roar and scent of the fire. They stuck 
their tails into the air and dashed for the far side of 
the donga, while we followed at best speed. When 
we emerged the elephants had disappeared. 

Boculy told us one day that elephants do not care 
about their rears; these are almost impervious to 
bullets and even spears. But he could not explain 
how it was that flies and tick birds annoyed the great 
animals. 

Then Osa wanted to know how long they lived; but 
all Boculy could say was, ‘‘Many year’’—he could 
not count far enough. But I informed her that 
some of the books had recorded a hundred and 
seventy-five years as a very old age for an elephant; 
and, barring spear and rifle catastrophes, most lived 
considerably past the century mark. 

I have often heard people boast about killing an 
elephant. We were both sorry we had to kill one. 
Our thrill came in a fine film and a narrow shave. 

Years of this sort of work have of course given me 
a pretty close insight into elephant character. My 
views have changed since as a boy I watched circus 
elephants on parade. In fact they are still chang- 


136 - SAFARI 


ing as I live more and more with the unspoiled 
animals. 

I have come to look upon an elephant as the 
dignified old gentleman of the wilderness. Often 
he is of great age; and his size prevents his plunging 
about the way lighter animals do. Yet he is not 
sluggish the way other elderly beasts come to be; 
it is only fair to cite the rhino as an example of an 
undignified creature despite his size. 

Certainly the elephant is no fool. He attends to 
his own business and lets other creatures severely 


alone. He leads a quiet family life. And he does 


not prey on the land or lives of other species. 
That the Indian elephant is easily tamed is no 
reflection upon the elephant’s character in general. 


He is not weak willed. Rather does he possess a 


kind of native philosophy deeply planted in his heart. 
Quicker than the cats and more thoroughly than 
the cattle does he perceive the futility of resisting 
captivity imposed by man. So he goes about his 
tasks or his tricks calmly and efficiently, and probably 
enjoys life little less than when he was free. 

I do not take any too seriously stories about an 
elephant’s vindictiveness. I think most intelligent 
lower animals remember a human being who has 


wronged them. Dogs do. Also there are vicious 


members of the elephant family just as of most other 
kinds of animals. A vicious dog or horse is equally 


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CHAPTER VIII 
ATTACKED BY RHINOS 


ATURALLY there were some serious adventures 
with the wild animals we met. No circular 
letter had reached the game to say that we were not 
out to harm them. We were not aggressive, but we 
were bold. And in our constant intrusions we often 
took chances. 

There were almost no tragedies, though we had 
many narrow escapes. There was the case of 
Rattray who was badly mauled by a leopard when 
helping Osa. 

In view of what happened later, it was strange that 
about this time Saunderson, my young assistant, got 
word that two of his friends had been killed by a 
rhino. It seemed that a young lady was staying 
with friends near Nanyuki. She went out with a 
Meru boy armed with a .303 Army rifle. The pair 
came on a rhino which charged and killed her despite. 
the fact that she bravely fired six shots into it. 

About the same time a settler and his wife were 
returning from Meruina Ford. They saw the same 
wounded rhino on the road. Unluckily the gun was 


lashed to the seat. While the wife was untying it her 
138 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 139 


husband jumped out and tried to frighten the rhino 
away by yelling at it and waving his coat. But the 
animal charged and killed the man right before the 
poor woman’s eyes. 

Soon after this I came out of my tent one morning 
and saw three rhino coming towards camp. They 
were fighting and running at the same time. There 
was also a baby rhino along which kept whining as it 
tried to keep up with the older ones. It seemed 
tired and was no doubt frightened at the rumpus 
its choleric elders were kicking up. Then the whole 
crowd disappeared in some bushes. 

After breakfast, Osa, Furber, Saunderson and 
myself went to the place where we had last seen the 
rhinos. Saunderson and Furber went into the bushes 
to look for tracks. All of a sudden I heard a scream. 
Then two shots, then more screams; then another 
shot and more screams. 

Osa and I dashed over as fast as we could go and 
entered the bushes. Saunderson was stretched out 
on the ground with his clothing torn and a mass of 
blood. At first I thought he was dead. But we 
raised him up and found the rhino had got him in the 
legs. He was badly cut up on his upper right thigh 
where a horn had torn to the bone. We quickly 
carried him into camp where luckily the cook had 
plenty of hot water. I washed all the gashes and 
put permanganate on them. 


140 SAFARI 


When the injured man could talk he told me that he 
had nearly stepped on the old female. She came for 
him instantly. He got in two quick shots but they 
glazed off her horn and thick skull. She kept coming 
and knocked the gun out of his hands and gored 
him. 

Saunderson died a few weeks later of pneumonia. 

In one way or another we came to know a good 
deal about the rhinoceros. The distribution of this 
animal is rather general over East Africa. We 
found them both on the plains and in the forests. 
The latter species have a larger and more tapering 
horn. Possibly this is the result of the plains 
animals going to live in the wooded sections where use 
of their horn against trees is common. 

It is interesting that the difference between the 
horns of the plains and forest rhinos is said now to be 
less marked than formerly. Probably the plains 
animals are taking to cover as a result of the advance 
of civilization. 

We found young rhinos with their parents at ail 
seasons of the year. The family sticks together until 
the young one is nearly as large as the adult. 
Percival tells me that the rhino’s reputation for 
viciousness comes largely from the fact that he 
tends to doze during the day time. When man dis- 
turbs him he wakes up half frightened, half angry and 
full of resentment. 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 141 


Warning of the approach of danger is given the 
rhino by the tick-birds that forever are roosting on 
top of his back. The birds fly up in alarm at the 
slightest provocation and the host comes to enough 
to find out whether it’s worthwhile waking up. If 
the birds seem really frightened the rhino also be- 
comes very much excited, and does not, calm down 
until he is positive that everything is all right. The 
intelligent instincts of these guardians is noted from 
the fact that they do not seem to mind the presence 
of man when on domestic cattle; it is only on wild 
game like the rhino that they flutter away when the 
hunter approaches. 

The next day after Saunderson’s scrape we had 
another brush with rhino. At daybreak I was on a 
small hill with my camera watching a herd of buffalo 
in the grass belowme. As Bukhari was ill my second 
headman was acting as chief. I told him to recon- 
noitre while I went back tocamp. On the way I saw 
coming toward me full tilt one of the boys. 

“Humadi killed by rhino!”’ he gasped out. 

With my heart jumping I ran after the fellow not 
knowing what horror I was about to see. He led me 
to Humadi, one of the porters, who was lying on the 
ground close to camp pretty badly, though not fatally 
smashed up. I carried him into the camp where 
he was roundly jeered by his fellow tribesmen. It 
seems that he had walked head on into the young 


142 SAFARI 


rhino whose mother had gored Saunderson. The 
baby was so scared it charged the black, knocked 
him down and stamped on him. 

Next morning it rained in small showers and I 
thought the day would be a washout altogether. But 
Boculy said that we should find rhino before noon; 
and we did. It rained like the devil for fifteen 
minutes, then the sun came blazing out in all its 
African glory. 

Right ahead of us was a herd of twenty-seven 
giraffe. A few minutes later Boculy pointed out a 
rhino across a deep valley. I had to take my glass to 
see it. But before I could focus on it the native 
announced there was a ‘‘toto”’ or baby rhino with it. 
I wish I had eyesight like that. It took us an hour 
to get to the animals, with the bad going and our 
heavy cameras. And when we got there the big 
mother had gone to sleep under a wide bush. We 
could not see the toto so we sat down to wait for her to 
wake up. 

About three o’clock the old woman came to and let 
her baby have dinner. We did not dare move or she 
would have seen us. A mother rhino and baby area 
dangerous proposition. We were right out in the 
open. Ina short time she decided to ramble on and 
started toward us. She was about the size of a coal 
truck, and roughly the same color. 

The instant she got our wind she snorted and ducked 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 143 


her big horned head. Boculy and Bukhari stood by 
with their guns ready in case she came for us. There 
was no assurance that a rifle shot would stop the 
beast had she taken it into her head to charge our 
way. But the two black lads stood bravely by wait- 
ing our call for their assistance. 

Just when the rhino was about to charge we set 
about shouting and waving our arms and were able 
to head her off before we had to shoot. I might add 
that I think this sort of thing usually meant that the 
animals were only half-hearted in their attack. For 
when either lion, rhino or elephant really took it into 
its head to vent its anger on us we usually had to 
climb a tree or shoot. 

In angry dignity the mother rhino went down 
through some rocks slowly enough for her baby to 
follow. She snorted away at the comical little fellow 
from time to time because it waddled too slowly to 
suit her. We heaved a sigh of relief when she passed 
out of sight. 

Another time we had been watching a rhino go up 
and around the cliffs near the lake with a sureness 
that seemed impossible in such lumbering brutes, and 
a little later a big rhino mother with a little toto came 
down tothe pool. This baby too was not over a week 
old, and was still unsteady on its feet but frisky as a 
kitten. It ran under its mother’s belly, as she drank, 
butted her playfully, then ran away for a few steps 


ra? ea SAFARI 


and then back again. But every time she tried to 


get it to drink it would shy off. 

Fascinated, we were watching it, and commenting 
to each other in whispers about the timidity of rhino 
young, which often stick by their mothers until as big 
as they. And I had arisen from the ferns and was 
cranking my camera—as the little one ran off from the 
pool, then, frightened by some leaf or bird, ran back 
again—when Osa gave meanudge. I turned quicker 
than a shot and there, coming for me, was a big buck 
rhino, his two horns straight in a line with the camera 
—and me. Osa already had her rifle—they were 
always across our laps, by our bedside, somewhere 
near at hand—at her shoulder, the .405 Winchester; 
and I called to her to try and turn him with a shot 
rather than shoot to kill, for I was making a good 
film of him and I thought this might be one of his ever- 
lasting false charges. Evidently Osa didn’t think so, 
for as he came within thirty feet, she shot for the 
brain and he fell; the bullet, we later found, lodging 
right by his horn. 

It is easy to imagine my anxiety when, after such 
incidents as these, Osa disappeared one day. She 


had ridden out a little way from camp on a mule; 


with her was one of the gun-bearers who reported 
that somehow or other he had got separated from her. 
My fury at the man’s being so casual was tempered 
when I saw how really frightened he was. 


‘ i ee 
PS ae ee eS LT ae? hh! le 


a a ee 


li te ane Oe 5 pao se Siu i) 


Y, wh be a yi wn . ! a res nnd ; 
7 ee eee ae ee ee eee a eee ee eo 


Meanie etna scn 


A Raurino THAT CLAIMED THE Ricut or Way. 


Enlargement from movie film. Thisrhino was on his way to water, but as we 
were set up on his trail, he could not help noticing us and charged full tilt. 


StoprpEpD BY Osa’s BULLET. 


This is the same rhino, the picture being made at the instant Osa shot him 
at a distance of thirteen feet from the camera. 


*4So10} 94} OFUI YO JUeM pute sn Jepun passed oy put sol} dn que OM YNQ ‘pesieyo pUe PUIA INO 409 oY 19}¥] BINUIUI Y *}UeNS ay} 
403 0} Surf1] punose SulpATYA ST ay puB ‘NOG’ JosUep SI o19q} FY} Spslq Yor} oY} JO yYSIB VY) Aq pousojuI useq ysnf svy oF 


‘ASIGVUVG FAV] ACISLAG SNIVIG AHL NO ONINY LSayOy VY 


*, “ . 


hee & “W ’ és 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 145 


At once I organized a search party. Not only 
were there rhinos in the vicinity, but leopards and 
other carnivorous beasts. If Osa was hurt and 
unable to defend herself there was no telling what 
ghastly fate might be hers. 

Of course it was not unusual for her to be treed by 
a wild animal. I knew she would climb out of harm’s 
way rather than shoot game unnecessarily. But I 
gathered from the man who had seen her last that 
there were no climbable trees within several miles of 
the desert trail they were on when he lost her. 

From a rocky elevation I searched the plain with 
my glasses. To my intense relief I suddenly saw 
Osa sitting alone on the ground at least a mile from 
me. As I looked she rose slowly and started to walk 
in faltering steps our way. We rushed out to meet 
her. 

“The mule shied at a snake,’’ she explained. “I 
fell off, and lost consciousness. I think I must have 
struck my head on a stone.”’ 

It was a good lesson in the danger of going alone 
through such country. 

I think we found the rhinos mostly feeding on the 
unpleasant thornbush. Sometimes they would turn 
up under a solitary tree on the plains which they 
had selected for their daytime rest. Despite their 
choleric temperaments we found them regular in 
their habits, and tending to stay in the same neigh- 


146 SAFARI 


borhood. From this we learned not to pitch our 
tents on a rhino trail as the animals were as likely 
as not to come trotting carelessly along down wind 
and blunder squarely into camp. During the day the 
rhinoceros does not drink much, putting in more time — 
dozing or fighting. About 4 p.m. he feels the need 
of a drink after the torrid heat and begins to wander 
toward his neighborhood waterhole, feeding as he 
goes. After a drink he will play by wallowing around 
in the mud, or pick a choice fight with some worthy 
antagonist. He spends a good deal of the night 
wandering restlessly about, grunting and squealing in 
marked contrast to his silence during the day. 

It is probable that few animals suffer so much 
from native hunters as does the rhino. 

I remember one exciting evening when Osa and her 
guide, Bukhari, climbed a ten foot rock some distance 
back of our camp. I wanted to get some photo- 
graphs of rhinos as they went down to the waterhole 
fora drink. We agreed on signals in advance. One 
whistle, repeated at intervals, meant a rhino was 
coming in front of us; two that he came from the left; 
and three from the right. If Osa saw one coming up 
behind us she was to give four blasts. 

With one other man I lay down in the sand about 
twelve feet from the flashlight lamps which were set 
up by the trail to the water. 

About ten o’clock Osa gave one whistle. It was 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 147 


pretty dark and the fact that a big brute weighing 
several tons was headed in our direction was not 
altogether reassuring. I later asked Osa how she 
felt. ‘I was too excited to feel,’’ she said. 

In a few minutes we could see the monster coming 
right down the path for us. Osa had considerable 
responsibility on her hands at the moment. For not 
only did she know her husband was in line with the 
animal, but she sighted another at almost the same 
moment. Furthermore she had no way of telling 
whether or not we had heard her first whistle. 

The heavy thud of footsteps soon revealed the 
whereabouts of the oncoming rhino. When he was 
within a few feet I set off the flash. He went gallop- 
ing back in Osa’s direction. 

In a few minutes another rhino came along. More 
whistling and a flashlight. This went on until about 
midnight. Osa kept busy whistling until she stopped 
in despair. There were so many rhinos coming and 
going that she could not keep track of them. Finally 
we had to throw stones at them to keep them away 
from us. As for poor Osa she was held a prisoner 
until after 2 a.m. when she found it safe to join us in 
camp for a well-deserved night’s rest. 

Once at one of our waterholes we dined well in 
the evening, for Osa took her Ithaca twenty, a shot 
gun with which she accomplished marvels, and came 
back with two dozen sand grouse. Contented and 


148 SAFARI 


full, we slept well, only to be awakened about mid- 
night by that chorus of snorts which always betrays 
the rhino. There, just beyond our makeshift boma, 
two rhinos were at it, snout to snout, quarreling over 
some fat-rumped dark leather-covered belle who 
stood watching the proceedings. Like the baboons 
in our forest, who are constantly threatening and 
pursuing each other, but rarely coming to actual 
fisticuffs, they did not give us a run for our money. 
They kept circling about, made lumbering sorties at 
each other; stood, heads lowered, tails in air, snorting 
away, and pawing the ground like enraged bulls; then 
seemed to kiss and make up. Possibly the presence 
of unseen white men acted on their subconscious 
minds, taking the fight out of them; or else they were 
staging a sham battle for our entertainment as we lay 
there in the moonlight. At any rate, that was the 
end of the affair. The peculiar thing about their 
exit was that they left the trail and gave our camou- 
flaged blinds a wide berth though the wind was all 
right. On the way they met two other rhinos com- 
ing in, conversed with them a moment, snout to 
snout, and then the two newcomers repeated the 
same maneuver, leaying the trail so as to avoid 
our concealed cameras. Evidently they had been 
warned by the others that there was a queer looking 
structure down there by the water. 

Next morning I went out alone with the boys as 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 149 


Osa felt she should fish; she was very conscientious 
about this as she said we needed fish for every camp 
in which we could get them. We left camp about 
the same time and walked about.a mile together 
before she branched down to the river, riding on her 
mule. Ndundu and Butoto were with her. She 
had perhaps gone a quarter of a mile when I saw her 
and the boys running, a rhino after them full tilt. 
Ndundu fired twice but missed. Butoto scrambled 
to the top of a big ant hill. 

Although I was afoot I started off at a run to the 
rescue, my boys following. But of course I was too 
far away to avert disaster. Anyway the mule was so 
terrified that the rhino had no chance to catch him. 
The chief danger lay in the chance that Osa might 
lose her seat and fall off. About this time Osa saw 
me coming and the rhino apparently heard us. It 
wheeled and disappeared in the long grass near the 
river. 

No wonder Osa hated rhino. She was always hav- 
ing encounters of this sort with them. When she 
came up to me she was so angry that she wanted me 
to go right back with her and shoot the beast; but in a 
few moments she cooled off and laughed about it. 

Here I discovered a small matter that might have 
led to serious consequences besides the fight it led to 
between Osa and Ndundu. It seemed that he had 
placed only four cartridges in the gun that morning 


150 SAFARI 


instead of the regular charge of five. Osa wanted me 
to discharge the boy, but Ndundu was nowhere to be 
found. Hedid not show up that night. Next morn- 
ing I found him waiting for me outside my tent. 
He was so sorry he actually cried, so of course Osa 
forgave him and all was bright again. 

some of the intensity of desire with which we 
searched for rhinos at this time was gradually com- 
municated to our boys. One day, while we were out 
near one of the mountain waterholes, two of them 
went to the pool for water. On their return they 
reported they had seen rhino which that particular 
morning we very much wanted. 

‘Did you see them?”’ I asked. 

‘Yes, Bwana Piccer.”’ 

“Good rhino?”’ 

“Yes, Bwana, very fine 

So off to the waterhole we went. There had been 
no rhino there for twenty-four hours, so Bukhari 
declared, and we knew enough now of the signs of 
the trail to realize that he was right. 

“Why in the devil,’ I said to the luckless boys, 
“did you say there were rhino? Why did you lie 
to me?’ 

‘‘But, Bwana, there were tracks.” 

“They were old and you did not tell me 
that.”’ 

“Yes, Bwana, that is so. We knew that; but two 


99 
! 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 151 


rhino had been there. Had we been there yesterday, 
there would have been rhino.”’ 

“IT suppose they were beautiful rhino then.” 

“Ah, Bwana, fine rhino, the biggest you ever 
saw, so expostulated the rascals, though the game 
may have been quite ordinary; then,—‘‘Do not be 
angry with us. You want good rhino and we only 
want to help you see good rhino.” 

With such childlike good nature and naive philoso- 
phy we had constantly to contend and it all added 
much to the countless other difficulties of the expedi- 
tion. However, it afforded some amusement, on 
calmer reflection, and relieved the tedium of some of 
our journeys. And often I tried to sound the boys 
out, to delve into the dark chambers of the brains 
of these people, who have been sunbaked for cen- 
turies into indolence and stupidity and who have been 
rendered hopeless by constant oppression from 
Northern tribes and too often from the white traders, 
to say nothing of generations of slave hunters before 
them. It is not all their fault. 

At times I think the rhino work got a bit on my 
nerves. Thecreatures themselves were stupid. The 
heat was often terrific. And the boys, like children, 
had their temperamental ups and downs in the most 
unexpected fashion. 

I recall one morning in rhino country when I 
especially instructed the boys to remain together as 


152 SAFARI 


they followed us with our gear. They tended to 
straggle along and string out all over the landscape 
until our chances for rhino became practically nil. 
About 9 A.M. we sighted a rhino ahead in some 
volcanic slag. We halted the safari and taking the 
camera boys told the others to remain behind until 
we called. : 
_ Now we located the rhino again and got very close 
to him by going carefully. I set up my camera 
and was patiently waiting for him behind a bush. 
Suddenly he snorted and ran. On looking for the 
cause I discovered my safari going around a hill a 
quarter of a mile ahead. The boys had disobeyed 
and thought they would go on. As a result they 
gave the rhino their scent and my two precious hours 
went for naught. 

This was a bad day altogether. About eleven we 
came upon another rhino and this time you may be 
sure the boys remained behind. Osa and I with the 
cameras managed to get up close enough for a few 
scenes, when the sun went under a cloud and the 
party was off for the moment. Then a pest of flies 
descended on us and bit our flesh until we nearly 
went insane. Also dust and heat waves made 
photography almost impossible. 

The last straw came when the rhino found we were 
after him. There was only one small thorn tree 
near the camera, up which I put Osa when the beast 


ATTACKED BY RHINOS 153 


began to graze in our direction. Suddenly he got our 
scent and came for us in short goose-like jumps. 
Then when his little near-sighted eyes focussed on 
our party he stopped and pawed up the ground as if 
to say, ‘‘Come on, I dare you to fight.’”’ Then he 
charged. It was funny to see nine boys and myself 
trying to climb that miserable little thorn tree after 
Osa when there certainly wasn’t room for more than 
three of us. Fortunately Mr. Rhino decided that he 
had taught us a lesson. He circled the tree with his 
little tail stuck straight out and then dashed off. 

A somewhat appropriate accident happened just 
when we were working back from our base and were 
passing through some of the plains country inhabited 
by the irritable old rhino. We had left several cars 
at a place called Merille. Millions of bees had 
colonized our camera boxes built into the bodies of 
the machines. We tried every way we could think 
of to drive the insects out but they went right back. 
I tied mosquito nets over myself and went in with 
sticks and scraped the boxes clean of bees. The 
angry creatures swarmed about me until I could not 
see. Then they got inside the netting. In a frenzy 
I ran away tearing off the netting as I went. Osa 
and the boys came to my assistance, as a result of 
which everybody got stung. Boculy had one eye 
shut; both my ears were swelled to twice their normal 
size; and the bees were back in the cars. 


154 . SAFARI 


Then I tried tying the netting about me and driving 
one of the cars up and down the road as fast as I could 
go with one hand, while I scraped out the bees with 
the other. This worked. But the minute I stopped 
the bees came back. Finally we simply had to burn 
them out, which played hob with the cars but left us 
400 lbs. of beautiful honey. 


CHAPTER IX 
THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 


ITHOUT the giraffe in daytime and the noisy 

hyena at night Africa would not be Africa. 

The giraffe is one of the first animals you see when 

you arrive and one of the last to peer at your fading 
dusty trail when you leave. 

One day near noon, near the upper edge of the 
Kaisoot Desert we came suddenly on a pitiful sight; a 
dying giraffe, neck broken and twisted almost under 
him. Up the poor creature’s back were a series of four 
sets of lacerations, each set grouped within a radius 
of about six inches. 

“‘Lions!”’ cried Osa. 

Boculy, our black elephant guide, shrugged his 
broad shoulders and grunted one word: “Simba,” 
the native name for the king of beasts. 

The giraffe’s great soft brown eyes gazed plead- 
ingly up into mine for amoment, then glazed. Sadly 
I reconstructed the scene that must have taken place 
not twenty minutes before our arrival. 

The waterhole at hand nearby told where the 
victim had been drinking when set upon by its 

155 


156 SAFARI 


assassin. A few yards away was a clump of young 
trees, the tops of which were green and tender. 
This was another clue to its fate. For after it 
browsed among the thin African foliage it turned to 
drink. As it poised awkwardly over the water a 
tawny blur behind a nearby rise on the rolling plain 
crept slowly forward. 

In my mind’s eye I could see the swish of the big 
cat’s tail as it slunk along with that dreadful running 
crouch at which the lion and leopard are so skilled. 


To be sure, from time to time the wafy giraffe glanced — 


nervously about. But to fill its long sharp mouth it 
must plunge nearly its whole nose into the scummy 
water, fatally shortening its vision. At these in- 
stants the lion darted forward, each time gaining 
ten yards or so on its prey. When a hundred yards 
away all cover ceased. The instinct of the giraffe 
had arranged for that. Then the charge: a galloping 
dash so swift that the horrified giraffe sensed but a 
yellowish light over its shoulder. b 
Probably at ten feet the wet-jawed lion sprang. 
He landed with claws bunched on the rump of the 
doomed giraffe. Heart pounding with dread the 
giraffe set off at the best speed nature had given 
it. But this speed was as a child’s tottering run 
compared with the hurtling death behind. Nor 
did the lion cease to run now that he was aboard. 
He literally galloped right on up the creature’s back. 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 157 


Hence the groups of lacerations where his claws had 
‘dug deep for a foot-hold. 

Astride the shoulders of the giraffe the hon 
balanced for a second: Then with one powerful 
upward sweep he caught the despairing creature’s 
long neck with the claws of one massive paw 
and apparently hove it down until the vertebre 
cracked. 4 : 

Such is murder in the wild spaces of the earth. 

If there lives a more defenseless animal than the 
giraffe I should like to know about it. To be surea 
giraffe can run faster than an earthworm; it can kick 
harder with its front feet than a caterpillar; and it can 
see better than a mole that is blind. But the earth- 
worm has its hole; the caterpillar can roll up and play 
dead under a leaf; and the mole lives hidden from his 
enemies. | 

The giraffe abides on the open plains amidst lions 
and leopards. To everyone of these carnivores its 
flesh is an appetizing delicacy. The giraffe is 
grotesquely conspicuous at all times. Its neck is 
ridiculously out of proportion to its body, which 
in turn is foreshortened to a stumpy and unbalanced 
lump. Its legs are so stiff and ill-formed that it 
must drink by spreading them apart until it takes a 
violent effort to spring to attention in case of danger. 
Its teetering gallop is thrown out of balance by the 
weight of its long neck. It has no claws or teeth for 


158 SAFARI 


combat. It can make no sound to frighten its enemy 
or warn its comrades. 

Surely the pervading Wisdom of the Universe 
slipped a cog when the wretched giraffe was allowed 
to wander into the African den of lions among which 
it leads its guileless life. It cannot fight, run, cry 
out nor hide well enough to escape its bloodthirsty 
enemies. 

I think it was Conrad that once said the best way 
to deal with injustice was to ignore it. This is what 
the giraffe does. He accepts the injustice of his fate 
with a dignity and gentleness that is worthy of the 
best traditions of a gentleman. 

The family life of the giraffe is exe piain: We 
became so accustomed to the rowdies and grouches of 
the jungle that it was a distinct pleasure to fall in 
with giraffes and watch their bland goings and 
comings among the other animals. Never did they 
dash about kicking and snapping the way the zebras 
did; or snort and quarrel as is common with the rhino 
amongst his kind. 

From time to time Osa and I came unexpectedly 
upon a mother giraffe and her gangling baby. The 
latter, like all its kind, was always consumed with 
curiosity. The sight of us two-legged animals was 
something entirely new. That we might represent 
danger seemed not to occur to it. 

As the little fellow craned his long neck and trotted 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 159 


a few steps in our direction the mother would become 
almost frantic. Having no vocal chords she could 
make no sound of warning; and unequipped with 
paws she could not maul her infant the way a bear 
would have done. Her only recourse was a sort 
of panicky trotting round and round the young 
animal, punctuated by a series of nudges that made 
little or no impression on the little one’s burning 
desire to find out what we were and why. 

This made a splendid picture of mother love. The 
adult gave every sign of terror. She knew we were 
not like the grazing animals to which she was used. 
Probably our movements were nearest to those of 
the beasts of prey that she knew would find a tasty 
morsel in the tender haunches of her child. Yet 
she would not desert it. And not until the silly little 
creature consented. to trot away with his adoring but 
terror-stricken mother would she leave our vicinity. 

One strange phenomenon we often saw among the 
_ giraffes was a half-grown female followed about by 
several babies. Osa was sure that this was some sort 
of “nurse maid’”’ arrangement. She used to report to 
me of a night, “‘ Martin, I saw a herd of giraffes today 
with two nurses and five children.’’ Probably the 
truth of the matter is that the mothers are killed by 
lions while defending their young. The infant man- 
ages to escape during the struggle and rejoins the 
herd. But since the other adults are already taken 


160 SAFARI 


up with their own young the orphans must band 
together for mutual protection. 

Of course we never were able to make a study of 
the animals until we saw them in an undisturbed 
state at or near a waterhole. One scorching day I 
sat reading in my blind. The animals outside were 
logy with the awful heat. A miasma of white dust 
filled the air, kicked up by the thousands of hoofs 
milling about me. This dust prevented good pho- — 
tography; but I hoped the air would clear later in 
the day. 

Suddenly I heard something picking away at the 
roof of my shelter on the side away from the water- 
hole. ‘‘Ah-ha,’’ I thought, “that baboon again.” 
One had been annoying me for some time. “ N ow 
I'll get him.”’ 

Quietly laying down my book, I crept to the 
S-shaped passage through which we entered and 
stuck my head out, ready to club the knave who had 
the temerity to tamper with my edifice. To my 
surprise there was not an animal in sight, save a herd 
of wildebeest and zebra some distance away. I 
craned my neck about, still hoping that I might 
ambush the intruder. In my hand I gripped a light 
stick with which I hoped to get in at least one blow of 
chastisement. 

Deciding that the baboon had heard me coming 
out and had run away, I was about to return to my 


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‘THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 161 


time-killing task when I heard a rustle over my head. 
I glanced out and found myself looking into the 
familiar brown eyes of a towering giraffe right above 
me. Apparently he had found some succulent buds 
among the fresh thorn branches that had been laid 
over the roof of my retreat. He was startled, yes. 
But there was no move of vicious defense as there 
would have been on the part of every other animal 
out there on the plain. Clearly he was sorry to have 
intruded. I could almost see him bow slightly and 
say in a low voice, “‘Really, I didn’t know this was 
your place. I beg your pardon, sir.’’ Quietly he 
moved away, gentle, voiceless and innocent of any de- 
sire to work harm to any other living being in the land. 

A giraffe’s water system seems to be built like that 
ofacamel. In the south country natives and guides 
have told me that the giraffe never drinks. For 
years I never saw one do so. Yet no one has ever 
seen the gerenuk or the dik-dik drink. They get 
their moisture from certain roots, cactus-like bushes, 
trees that have a milky substance in them and from 
the tender young buds of trees. 

One day in the Southern Game Preserve Blay- 
ney Percival and I were talking about this curious 
trait of the giraffe. Neither of us was sure what 
the animal’s drinking habits were; though we both 
knew that it must imbibe moisture somehow or 
other in order to live. 


162 SAFARI 


Suddenly Percival seized my arm. ‘Look!” he 
whispered. Right below us-on the edge of a little 
pool stood a full-grown giraffe. After a long scrutiny 
of the country around, it approached the water 
very slowly and waited as if listening. There was no 
cover for a lion to hide behind, except for the little 
knoll on which we perched; and the land about was 
as flat as a billiard table. For long minutes it seemed 
as if the giraffe were only going to have a look at the 
water. It craned its silly neck this way and that; 
it cocked its eye at the pool, which must have been 
very tempting to its parched tongue. But it did not 
drink. Nor did we move. I think we both were 
anxious to see what the animal would do. 

Finally it began slowly to spread its four feet. 
Despite its long neck it could not lean over far enough 
to reach the surface of the water. It had to lower 
its whole body by dropping the center of gravity in 
the same way one lowers a moving picture camera by 
spreading the legs of the tripod. Once it assumed 
this awkward position the giraffe seemed to realize 
that the sooner it drank the safer it was. Only bya 
sort of hop and rear could it possibly assume its 
position for running again. His long neck swung 
down. Into the water it plunged its slender taper- 
ing nose and drank for what seemed an hour to the 
pleased pair of men who were spying on it. 

I found the same thing later at my waterhole 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 163 


blinds. The giraffe always took longer than any of 
the other animals to come down to the water. Time 
and again it would get almost to the edge and then 
be startled by some stamping giraffe or other beast. 
It was not afraid of the other grazing animals. I 
once saw a dozen giraffe pass within ten feet of a 
grazing rhinoceros and pay absolutely no attention 
tohim. But they no doubt know their shortcomings; 
and are prepared to flee if any other animal is 
attacked by the meat-eaters who are always hovering 
about. 

If the waterhole is among reeds or grass, or up a 
small ravine, or in any other kind of country that 
affords cover to lurking enemies the giraffe will not 
drink. More than once I have seen a herd of them 
that I know could not have been to water for days, 
avoid a hole in the most sweltering heat just because 
it did not offer a safe visit to a creature so awkward. 
Even out in the open I have seen a single giraffe take 
over two hours covering the last few feet between 
itself and the water. 

Men cannot really be counted among the enemies 
of the giraffe. Sportsmen seldom kill them. It is 
possible to secure a hunting license that permits it. 
But there is little of the triumph for thebig game 
campaigner that goes with conquering an infuriated 
lion, buffalo, elephant or other truly hostile denizen 
of the plain or jungle. Once the hunter gets within 


164 SAFARI 


rifle shot of the giraffe there is no trick to kill it. 
There is no danger and no dodging. Indeed its 
curiosity puts him at an even bigger disadvantage 
than its helplessness. For it will stand and watch a 
safari until the travellers are out of sight. It will 
watch as long as it dares when the hunter ap- 
proaches. And even when it runs it will not go 
far because its curiosity soon gets the better of its 
fear. 

Sometimes Boer settlers kill giraffes for their 
animal’s hide, which is the second only to that of the 
elephant and the rhinoceros for thickness and tough- 
ness. By slicing a cylinder of the hide around and 
around the Boer fashions a long durable whip which, 
when properly cured, makes an ideal article for 
driving his oxen which he hitches in teams running 
above twenty animals. The skin also makes excel- 
lent harness and boots. But the British government 
recognizes the likelihood that the giraffe will soon 
become extinct and protects them assiduously against — 
commercial exploitation. 

Natives rarely kill the giraffe, though the meat is 
considered very tasty by them. Their greatest 
desire for a dead giraffe rises from their superstition 
that the hairs out of a giraffe’s tail are fine medicine 
against the onslaught of evil spirits. They braid 
this hair, which is black and wiry, into attractive 
bracelets and necklaces which they wear night and day. 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 165 


Whenever in our travels we come upon a giraffe 
that has been killed by lions our natives make a rush 
for the carcass in hopes that the jackals and vultures 
have left the precious tail intact. I must add that 
such a find is not as valuable as we used to think. 
Our guide Boculy later confided to me that the hairs 
from a dead animal have lost much of their effective- 
ness in keeping away the devil. 

A settler was once talking to me about his super- 
stition and laughing over the native’s insistence that 
the hairs from the tail of a live giraffe make good 
medicine. He related the following incident: 

“‘I remember seeing twenty giraffe bogged in a 
mud swamp. We weren't after the poor devils. 
Somehow they got ahead of us and seemed to think 
we were chasing them. Before we knew it they had 
galloped straight into a morass that we knew was 
badly mired after recent rains. I should have 
thought the animals’ instinct would have kept them 
out. But I suppose they were so frightened they 
lost their heads. 

“We went up and tried to do something to help 
them. But our presence only made them struggle 
deeper and deeper. We went away hoping that 
when we got out of sight they would manage to 
escape from the clinging mud that dripped their 
slender legs. Otherwise the group would either die 
of starvation or of fright. 


2 Sree’ 


166 SAFARI 


‘“‘Next day we came back to see what had happened. 


_ The giraffes were still there, but every one had had tts 
tail cut off. That meant the natives had been in 


after them for the miracle-working hair. Not one 
animal was harmed.”’ 

Whether they finally escaped isa question. I cer- 
tainly hope they did. 

Indirectly man caused the death of a lot of giraffe 
when the Uganda railway was first built. The 
common giraffe, which is sometimes twenty-three 
feet from the crown of its head to the sole of its hoof, 
continued to wander about its preserve as its 
ancestors had for countless ages. Naturally when a 
hungry lion hopped into the midst of a herd of the tall 
animals they fled in all directions. As a result the 
railway engineers used to find a dead giraffe every 
week or so lying near the track with a broken neck. 
Running madly through the darkness the animals 
had collided with the telegraph lines with fatal 
results. For years an average of over 50 giraffe 
a year committed suicide this way. 

It is practically impossible to tame a giraffe. I 
know of one that was lassoed and died of fright before 
it could be got into a cage. Half an hour after 
the rope was around its neck it collapsed. I once 
saw a baby giraffe that belonged to a settler, but it 
did not seem at all contented with its surroundings. — 


It was nervous, and anemic and gave every sign of 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT _ 167 


longing for the wild plains on which it had first seen 
the light of day. Most giraffes that are captured 
die of a broken heart before they become used to 
captivity. On the other hand giraffes in confinement 
give very little idea of those we see in the wild state. 
I suppose only those that are semi-morons can endure 
living without their freedom; as a result almost none 
of the wild animal’s personality survives. 

Despite this the giraffe is one of the most sought 
after animals for menagerie or zoo. Justly so, too; 
for it is one of the strangest creatures that survives 
from prehistoric times. It is the tallest animal man 
knows. Its curious spots vary from beast to beast; 
once I saw one with distinct leaf markings down 
in, Tanganyika; and a native killed an albino in the 
Lorian swamp some years ago. Some have nearly 
black markings, others with their pattern so dim as 
to be nearly invisible. In a herd it is interesting to 
note that few have the same shade of coloring, all 
ranging from dark roan to light yellow. 

Classed by color and markings there are two kinds 
of giraffes in East Africa. On the lower edge of British 
East they are blotched with dark markings on a light 
ground. But when we get towards Abyssinia we find 
their designs ‘‘reticulated’’; that is to say, they are 
mostly dark with a network or reticulation of white 
lines placed in a large pattern thereupon. 

In this connection it is interesting to note that the 


168 SAFARI 


history of man’s knowledge of the giraffe compares 
favorably with the records of sea serpents and the 
like. For many centuries the accounts of this 
animal put it in the class with fabulous monsters. 
Travellers caught glimpses of its great height and 
grotesque proportions and at once put it in the class 
with satyrs, sphinxes and unicorns. 

It is recorded that the first giraffe ever seen amid 
civilized surroundings was exhibited in Rome in the 
time of Julius Cesar. So great was the impression 
of the strange beast upon a very superstitious 
populace that other specimens were brought in 
whenever they could be got. The animals came 
in through the Egyptian desert and across the 
Mediterranean. But few withstood the hardships of 
such a journey. In those days the giraffe was known 
as the Camelopardalis (because it impressed the 
naturalists as a sort of combination between a camel 
and a leopard), which name stuck as camelopard 
until recent years when the more simple name began 
to be generally used. 

Before 1827 no giraffe had come to Europe since 
the end of the 15th century. In this year a pair were 
sent as a peace offering by the Pasha of Egypt to the 
courts of England and of France. It is not on record 
what the Pasha thought the monarchs to whom the 
animals were addressed would do with these strange 
gifts. But doubtless he made an impression with 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 169 


this display of his imagination. Further, reports 
of the species had been so exaggerated that much 
excitement was caused throughout Europe by the 
passage of the animals. It is commonly believed 
that the average giraffe was “‘so huge that a man on 
horseback could pass uprighte under him.’”’ And that 
he fed on the leaves of the highest trees. 

The next shipment north of giraffes was not until 
1836. This comprised four animals and was an out- 
standing event in the natural history of that day. 
The quartette was led through the streets of the city 
of London by attendants especially trained for the 
task. Nubians in Abyssinian costume lodged the ani- 
mals in their quarters in Regent’s Park. Besides the 
guiding natives a whole retinue of servants brought 
up the entourage. Accounts of the performance are 
staidly humorous in dealing with those citizens who 
unexpectedly sighted the great beasts through eyes 
dimmed by recent dissipation. 

It is curious that of all the African animals there 
are fewer anecdotes and adventures extant about the 
giraffe than about any other denizen of that wild 
country. No doubt this fact is as good a tribute as 
any to the giraffe’s virtue in neither meddling in 
another’s business nor in loving combat the way so 
many of the animals seem to. 

Some tribes of African natives used to claim that a 
giraffe often sleeps with its head high in the crotch 


170 SAFARI 


of a tree in order that it may keep a good lookout 
for trouble. While it dozes it continually shoots 
out its long slender tongue that is narrow and curved 
so that a pencil could scarcely be inserted in it. 

Not long ago a giraffe killing was witnessed from 
the windows of one of the trains on the railway 
running from Mombasa to Nairobi. Apparently 
the noise of the train hastened the attack of the 
lions and gave the giraffe some sense of the danger 
she was in. At any rate they seemed to rush in 
with less assurance than usual. The giraffe at once 
put up the best defense of her child she could by 
kicking out right and left with her forefeet, but not 
abandoning it. The train stopped to give the 
passengers a chance to watch the spectacle of this 
cruel and one-sided combat. 

Undaunted by the roars of the lions an American 
newspaper reporter at this point sprang from his 
coach and rushed out, unstrapping his camera as he 
ran stumbling over the dry hard ground. Cries of 
warning by the train crew, who knew only too well the 
peril in which the tenderfoot was placing himself, did 
not deter him. As so often happens in dealing with 
wild beasts the very boldness of the man unnerved 
the lions. At the photographer’s approach they 
made off leaving their wounded victim to escape in 
another direction. But she did not run far; for her 
little fellow stood there where she had left him, help- 


THE CREATURE GOD FORGOT 171 


less with a leg she herself had broken in her wild 
efforts to keep off the lions. 

The natives tell of a certain comradeship that 
occasionally seems to exist between elephants and 
giraffes. There are certainly traits of similarity 
between the two animals. Both are inclined to live 
and let live. Both have dignity and decency in their 
relations among themselves. Both make excellent 
parents. And both are grotesque survivors of a pre- 
historic age of mammals. 

schillings, the African traveller and explorer, 
relates how he fell in with a big male giraffe consort- 
ing regularly with a pair of elephants for mutual 
friendship and protection. Probably the giraffe 
could see further and better than the elephants; and 
the elephants in their turn prevented attack by the 
giraffe’s worst enemy, the lion. 

Another curious belief among some of the natives 
is that giraffes talk to one another by means of their 
tails. It is true that when the bull of a giraffe herd 
sights an enemy he at once emerges from the tree 
foliage amongst which he may have been feeding and 
begins whisking his long bushy tail about at a great 
rate. When the giraffe is suspicious there is also a 
great switching of his tail. 


CHAPTER X 
A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 


““T)00OM-BOOM-BOOM-M-M!” My friend, on 
safari for the first time, threw a startled look 
out into the black African night. Beyond the narrow 
cylinder of our camp-fire’s glare, the green eyes of big 
preying cats shone at intervals. A heavy body 
rustled' through the bush. A hyena laughed hys- 
terically on the rise behind us and was answered 
by another cackle of his species in a little donga 
near by. 
‘“Boom-boom-boom-m-m 
My friend reached out and gripped my arm. For 
a moment I thought the night had got him. It does, 
you know, when you are not used to Africa; when 
you realize that half a dozen lions are out there a 
stone’s throw from where you are sitting, their long 
tails slashing in murderous irritation at man’s fire 
which they dare not face; that a shadowy leopard 
is slinking in your tent’s short shadow for a closer 
look; that an ill-tempered rhino may be at that very 
moment on his way to investigate the human 
intruders. 


9? 
! 


172 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 173 


Yes, night on the African veldt can easily get the 
newcomer. 

‘‘Boom-boom-boom-m-m!”’ 

Of a sudden I was conscious of my friend’s real 
perturbation. His hand on my arm gripped tighter 
as he pointed with the other in the direction of the 
sound to which every African traveller becomes so 
accustomed; the only other continued night noise be- 
sides the demented laughing of hyenas. 

I laughed. The African dweller always laughs 
when he answers this particular question. 

““Ostriches,’’ I explained. ‘‘ Only ostriches. Their 
booming is the most common, the most carrying, the 
most senseless of all animal speech, yes, even more so 
than that of the crazy hyenas.”’ 

““Boom-boom-boom-m-m!”’ again like some gigan- 
tic bullfrog of the desert. 

Less is known and more is misunderstood, I think, 
about this huge bird—that isn’t a bird—than about 
almost any other animal in the world. 

There is a pathetic vanity about an ostrich that 
other animals seem to understand far better than 
man does. An ostrich doesn’t walk, he struts; he 
doesn’t scratch, he preens; he doesn’t look from side 
to side, he cocks his head with a silly archness quite 
in keeping with his whole dude-like personality. 

I remember sitting in my blind one morning at a 
waterhole waiting for the game to give me the film I 


174 SAFARI 


wanted. There were zebra, gazelle, wildebeeste and 
wart hogs about in thousands. Unfortunately, the 
weather was scorching hot; and since it had not 
rained for days, a powdery dust rose under the 
nervous hoofs of the animals and filled the air with 
mist-like clouds that made photographic work 
impossible. 

My chief amusement came from watching the 
ostriches as they stalked down from time to time 
to drink. They came individually. Each strode 
slowly through the herds, his head pompously high 
and his long legs thrust out affectedly at each step. 
Though he looked neither to the right nor left the 
quadrupeds made way for him. I watched carefully 
to see if perchance there would be a collision at any 
time. But there wasn’t. However, I have long 
since been convinced that other animals are afraid 
of the ostrich’s terrible kicking power. 

Having reached the water the ostrich settled itself 
in its tracks and glanced haughtily about. Ifit wasa 
male, he usually swallowed a time or two. Had he 
worn cuffs I am sure he would have shot them, prob- 
ably taking a silk handkerchief out of his breast 
pocket to wipe his beak before the first sip. Were it 
a female, she rose slightly on her toes and fluttered 
her wings before settling herself to the serious task 
of quenching her thirst. Somehow this performance 
conjured up the vision of a lady twitching her 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 175 


shoulders and coyly pushing up the edge of her 
veil. 

The actual drinking consisted of two motions: 
a shovel-like dip of the beak into the pool and an 
upraising of neck and head while the water ran down 
the long neck. This was repeated several times, with 
a deal more of the comical hitching and gesturing 
between mouthfuls. As I have said before, it is 
this drinking act that has given rise to the tradition 
that the ostrich hides its head in the sand when 
pursued by man. 

The ostrich chiefly flourishes in Southern Africa. 
I am told that Xenophon in his Anabasis mentions 
having seen it in the southwestern desert tracts of 
Asia. In East and South Africa the big birds inhabit 
every waste extensive enough to give the arid soli- 
tude an ostrich seems to love. 

The wild ostrich is disappearing rapidly on account 
of man. To be sure, it is preyed upon by the carni- 
vores, but not seriously as compared with the native 
and settler who trap it for domestication. Before 
1860 the ostrich was a wild bird. In 1862 half a 
dozen chicks were caught in Cape Colony for the 
purpose of experimenting with them as domestic 
fowl. It was realized that the feathers were valu- 
able; and the eggs were of such size as to promise 
returns, provided they were as edible as reported. 
The first hatching was in 1864. To the vast satis- 


176 SAFARI 


faction of the pioneer the chicks proved a success; 


in fact, with careful feeding and housing, they soon 


became more healthy than their parents. 

Today there are nearly 20,000 highly bred birds 
in South Africa alone. These produce 85 per cent of 
the world’s total supply of feathers. The other 15 per 
cent comes from North Africa, Australia and Cali- 
fornia, each producing about 5 per cent. California 
birds are said by experts to give feathers nearest in 
quality and size to those of South Africa. Diet is 
probably the determining factor in the feather quality 
of our home state. 

In early days the best white feathers sold at seven- 
teen shillings a pound. Now pure white feathers 
bring as high as fifteen to twenty-five pounds a 
pound. Price varies with fashion on one side and 
the supply on the other. But since the altogether 
unrelated ups and downs of both do not at all coin- 
cide, the ostrich raiser can never be quite sure where 
he stands. 

Wing and tail feathers are clipped when the bird is 
seven months old, but the finest plumes come from 
birds two to thirty-five years old. Each wing gives 
about thirty white feathers, weighing around half a 
pound. Double that quantity of tail feathers come 
‘from a bird, but these are considered second in 
quality. Light and dark feathers from the female 
are not so much in demand as the fine pure white 


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A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 177 


ones from the male. From both sexes hundreds of 
small grey and black fancy feathers are cut to thin 
the heavy coat the birds grow when healthy. These 
are sold for dusters. } 

I must confess that most of my interesting experi- 
ences have been with the wild birds. I find them far 
more engrossing, though less beautiful, than the fat 
domesticated fowl, which are usually logy with 
overfeeding. 

Osa and I are always glad to get back to a mess 
of ostrich eggs. We like them best scrambled, 


though they can be prepared in any style. Eachegg — 


weighs about three and a half pounds, and, from a 
culinary point of view, is equal to about three dozen 
hen eggs. It takes forty minutes to soft-boil an 
ostrich egg and at least four hours really to hard-boil 
it; once done it will keep for weeks. 

I remember an afternoon when company came 
suddenly. Osa told one of the ladies she guessed 
she’d make a cake for dinner. 

She disappeared for five minutes and came back 
with the remark, ‘‘Well, that’s that.” 

“You don’t mean to say you’ve made a cake in 
that time!’’ exclaimed the guest. 

Osa beckoned the doubter to follow her. “One 
egg, one cup of flour, and a pinch of salt,” she 
laughed, ‘‘and you have a cake.”’ 

There on the table was the huge shell of one ostrich 


ad 


» 


178 SAFARI 


egg with a gallon flour bucket by its side. The 
native cook had just slid the cake into our hot-stone 
oven. It was just a case of putting the whole oper- 
ation on a gigantic scale, with cup and egg nearly 
forty times their conventional size. 

Another time when we were held up at night by 
storm we stopped for shelter and a bite. I had not 
yet been in Africa long enough to learn the ways of 
the country. After we were seated in the dim rays of 
a single oil lamp that flickered in the drafty room, 
our host removed a trapdoor from a corner of the 
floor and lifted up what appeared to be a large white 
rock. Taking his hammer from the shelf, he went 
out and could be heard chopping away at something. 
Presently he returned and laid a shining hard-boiled 
ostrich egg on a plate. He sliced the egg and served 
it on green leaves, with salt and pepper and hard 
ship’s biscuit. Rarely had anything tasted so good. 

The proper number of eggs under a setting ostrich 
is approximately sixteen. I suspect the ostrich 
never counts them but depends on the way they feel 
under her; for she will try a nestful for a while and 
kick out one at a time until those left feel right. 

As a matter of fact, the nest life of an ostrich is 
just about as ridiculous as a good deal of the rest of 
its life. Both sexesset. The male, being of a darker 
hue, takes the night watches. I suppose he is quite 
invisible to prowling animals in the dark. The grey 


* 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 179 


hen, almost exactly matching the dry grey desert, 
takes over the job during the day. 

There is some doubt whether the ostrich depends 
on the heat of the sun to help the hatching process. 
I have frequently run across nests of eggs with no 
bird around. But never have I done this when 
the sun was at its full tropical force. Surely the 
scorching heat of an African midday would penetrate 
even the thick shell of an ostrich egg. 

In breeding season one cock goes about with four 
or five hens. Most of the time he pretends to be 
utterly indifferent to the ladies in his harem; but he 
eyes them, none the less, while they mince and preen 
and otherwise cast their net for his majesty. 

If another cock, especially a young one, arrives on 
the scene and makes any advances towards the hens, 
there is a terrific rumpus right away. The king-pin 
prances about and makes jerky threatening motions 
with his powerful foreleg that tell the intruder in no 
uncertain language to beat it. The youngster never 
fights, but prances away in skittish fashion, pretend- 
ing that he didn’t mean anything serious at all. 

After some days the hens begin to work on the love 
nest. 

There is only one nest for the whole family, which 
is both inconvenient and impractical. But such is 
ostrich fashion, and ostrich fashion is just as foolish 
as that of the human being. The site of the nest 


180 SAFARI 


is out in the open, as far as possible from any sort of 
cover. Obviously, the ostrich wants to be able 
to sit on its nest and catch first sight of any approach- 
ing enemy. ‘The minute a stranger appears on the 
horizon the ostrich is up and off on a wandering 
course that cleverly misleads the jackal or hyena that 
might be searching for its eggs. 

The nest is simply a shallow pit scraped out of the 
sand and gravel by the feet of birds. The sand is 
banked up slightly on the outer edges to form a low 
wall against which the eggs can rest without rolling 
out. This is one of the few purely practical and 
intelligent things of which the ostrich is ever guilty. 
When about a dozen eggs have been laid the cock 
decides to get down to serious business and begins to 
roost on the collection. The hens, always anxious 
to please, straightway follow suit, taking turns as 
convenient. 

So far, so good. The trouble is that the hens 
don’t associate the size of the nest with their con- 
tributions to it. As a result, they go right on 
merrily laying. After there are about twenty eggs 
the nest is full. Even then the energetic hens don’t 
stop. Soon the male begins to be annoyed by the 
mounting cargo of his nest. Playing no favorites, 
he doesn’t hesitate to kick out enough eggs to make 
himself comfortable for the night. Just as likely as 
not one of the zealous hens will come along next day 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 181 


and roll some of the extra eggs back in again. This 
foolish performance goes on for several days and 
sometimes until there are more than forty eggs in all. 

I have seen nests surrounded by a dozen broken 
shells from which the contents have been emptied. 
It is said that when the young begin to be hatched 
the parent breaks open some of the remaining eggs to 
feed the chicks which cannot stand the rough food of 
the desert. But I am inclined to doubt this. Prob- 
ably the broken shells are only sad signs of the 
hungry hyenas who have slipped in while the cock 
and hens are away at the water hole and had a meal 
at the expense of their labors. 

Natives steal eggs by locating the nest and waiting 
until the birds are off. Sometimes they will throw 
rocks on the hen left behind on guard, driving her far 
enough away to make it safe to approach. It is 
against the law in South and British East Africa to 
rob an ostrich nest, but the blacks do so whenever 
they are out of sight of authority. 

Probably the hyena is the greatest egg thief of all. 
So much of a scoundrel is this fellow that he breaks 
more eggs than he can eat. Such is his practice 
in his other hunting; indeed, I have seen him ham- 
string goats, one after another, when there was no 
chance in the world of his ever feeding on them. 
Small felines, such as the gennet, civet and wild cats, 
also enjoy an ostrich egg as a change of diet. Herds 


182 SAFARI 


of running game, zebra, antelopes and wildebeests, 
break a good many when stampeding over the nest. 

Theoretically the ostrich will not come back to its 
nest once it is disturbed. But natives and old- 
time African hunters know how to do this skillfully 
so that the ostrich does not seem to mind. The 
important point is not to touch the eggs that are to be 
left. , 


Our common domesticated fowl usually sets on 


twelve eggs and takes twenty-one days for the hatch- 
ing. The ostrich often completes its setting on as 
high as twenty-six eggs, from which the chicks emerge 
after forty-two days. 

The little ones are at a terrible disadvantage at 
first. Their legs are so long and weak, their necks 
so slender and willowy, that they are more like intoxi- 
cated creatures than like infant fowl. They reel 
and stagger about aimlessly for some days, an easy 
prey to the first carnivorous animal that happens 
along. ; 

Meanwhile, alas, the parents revert to their former 
vanity. The cock, wings spread and neck curved 
backward, struts about with a grand air of “‘How is 
that for an old man?”’ while the hens are mincing 
around him, rising on their toes and settling back, 
or teetering sidewise with their bills cocked at a 
deprecating angle, all the while seeming to say to one 
another: ‘‘There, I told you so!” 


ee ee eee 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 183 


While father and mothers and chicks are still all 
together in the early stages of this period of parental 
pride the young can still rely on some protection if 
the cock notices a jackal or hyena advancing. At 
such times the ostrich is very ferocious and will 
boldly charge the beast who threatens the safety 
of the chicks. Sometimes, as a ruse, he even pre- 
tends to be lame. But even this gesture of defense 
is part of the whole prideful personality of the big 
bird; for when the danger has passed he does not 
return for anxious investigation of his offspring to see 
if they are still safe and sound, but struts up and 
down with an air of braggadocio to advertise the 
splendid courage he has just shown. 

With such a streak of moral weakness running 
through ostrich parenthood, it is not unexpected 
to find the chicks drifting away altogether from their 
fathers and mothers. Often have I seen them out on 
the veldt wandering around in forlorn groups with 
every appearance of never having known true 
motherly love. Once Osa and I came on a bunch of 
twelve big ostriches accompanied by at least a 
hundred poor little ostriches. The big birds looked 
just like a bevy of rich tourists pretending they 
didn’t notice the ragamuffins that were following 
them about. Our hearts went out to the little 
fellows, who seemed utterly miserable and full of 
doubt as to what to do next. 


184 SAFARI 


The full-grown ostrich sometimes weighs more 
than three hundred pounds and is as much as nine 
feet high. His most marked characteristic is the 
fact that he has only two toes—the third and fourth 
—on each foot. In South America there is another 
large bird—the rhea—which is also called an ostrich. 
This bird can be distinguished from the true ostrich 
by its having three toes instead of two. According to 
the biologists the original ostrich had five toes. 
However, the modern bird can probably run faster 
with the two it has now than could his ancestors with 
five. | 

Arabian legend has it that the ostrich is the result 
of union between a camel and a dodo bird! Cer- 
tainly it inherited some of the worst characteristics of 
both. Its awkward shape, the uselessness of its 
wings, its seeming lack of pleasure in life, all indicate 
that it is one of Nature’s errors. 

The one offensive weapon at the command of the 
ostrich is its foot. The terrific downward stroke 
of its huge toe driven by a muscular thigh the thick- 
ness of a leg of mutton is easily the equal of the kick 
of a full-grown horse. A blow from it will break 
a rib or the backbone of any ordinary animal. In 
addition to the force of the blow, the sharp claw can 
tear skin and flesh like a military saber. 

I remember once when a native was standing in 
front of an ostrich that was to be caught for plucking. 


GOING FOR A FREE RIDE. 


Two of our pets—a young lion cub anda half grown baboon. They were quite good 
friends. They slept together, and whenever the cub decided to move the baboon 
would hop on his back for a free ride. 


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A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 185 


suddenly the ostrich was frightened by a man coming 
up behind. He plunged forward and struck at the 
black, ripping him completely open. It is for this 
reason that when the bird is plucked the plucker 
usually leans on him from behind, since no ostrich can 
kick to the rear. 

The philosophy of the ostrich seems to be built on 
a too-proud-to-fight basis, as I have never seen them 
attack one another. But no doubt beasts of prey are 
wary of that vicious downward blow, as I have never 
seen signs of an ostrich having been killed by another 
~ animal. 

I think one of the most remarkable ostrich adven- 
tures of which I have ever heard happened in Boston. 
One night a drunken man reeled into a dark shed of 
the Zoo where an ostrich was kept. The huge bird 
rose to defend itself when the man staggered toward 
the corner where it had been sleeping. By sheerest 
accident the man’s hands came into contact with the 
creature’s long neck before it had a chance to strike 
the usual murderous blow with its foot. Luckily, the 
man hung on. Ensued a terrific struggle to the 
death of the ostrich. 

African natives capture and pluck ostriches with a 
gentleness that is altogether unexpected. They take 
advantage of the fact that the bird probably loses 
all defiance when its head is covered. The native 
fashions a cone of bark the inside of which he smears 


186 SAFARI 


with a sticky gum of a resinous tree. The cone is 
then filled with a particularly succulent shrub of 
which the ostrich is very fond. When the bird 
has eaten down to the gummy lining the cone sticks 
on its head completely blinding it. 

Now the native can approach the ostrich with 
impunity, though he must remain in rear of the bird 
so as to be clear if it kicks. The ostrich farmer 
resorts to the same general method, except that his 
paddock man employs a long bamboo rod with an 
iron crook at its end to pull the bird’s head in. 
A small black cap, like a hangman’s bonnet, is then 
fitted over beak and eyes and tied some inches down 
the wriggling neck. Though twenty men could 
not pull the feathers out or clip them before the bird 
is thus blinded, he is docile as a kitten once he cannot 
see. I should add in passing that there is not the 
slightest pain connected with the clipping of an 
ostrich. No doubt it is a relief to the bird to be rid 
of his hot coating. : 

The natives have no utilitarian use for the feath- 
ers. They bedeck their shields and spears with 
plumes very much as did the knights of medieval 
times. In ceremonials, ostrich-feather ornaments 
play a considerable part in making the native and his 
trappings both colorful and impressive. 

I don’t think I should mind a tame lion or leopard 
or elephant. Even a tame zebra or buffalo can be 


A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 187 


made useful, if not ornamental. But an ostrich is 
the last creature in the world I should want about 
the house. In the first place the poor things are 
regular nesting places for incredible swarms of 
vermin. No doubt this misfortune accounts to 
a considerable extent for the constant and ridiculous 
jerking about of the average bird. Then the ostrich is 
the original sufferer from dandruff. I suppose it 
isn’t real dandruff; but it looks like dandruff and it’s 
just as offensive, with none of the human personality 
beneath it to hide the defect. 

Once when my boys caught a young ostrich we 
gave it to a near-by government station. I passed 
by a year later and found the bird nearly full grown 
and very tame. But it finally got to be such a 
nuisance my friends had to give it away. They said 
it ate everything in sight that caught its eye—money, 
jewelry, glass, nails, small spoons, and so on. 

I used to think that the things I heard about the 
appetite of an ostrich were exaggerated. Now I 
know they are not. The truth of it is that Nature 
impels the birds to gobble hard objects into their 
gullets to help grind the massed roughage that they 
eat. But, as in other things, the ostrich shows little 
signs of intelligence or restraint. I remember one 
bird was opened some time ago in a French Zoo and 
found to contain more than twenty pounds of iron, 
lead, copper, zinc, stone, wire and other articles 


188 SAFARI 


quite useless so far as any nourishment was 
concerned. 

The natives do not kill ostriches for food. Hunters 
say that in emergency the heart and liver of an 
ostrich make excellent eating. But for a regular 
diet I think they might be compared with the sea gull 
for which Jack London used to prescribe the following 
method of cooking: 

“You put on a large kettle of water to boil. Pluck 
the gull carefully, making sure not to injure its feet 
or bill. When the water boils put the gull in, head 
down, and let simmer for fifteen minutes. Then 
throw the water away and repeat the process.” 

At this point in the story Jack used to pause 
impressively, raise an emphatic finger, and go on 
with every evidence of being very sincere: 

“After having thrown away the third water,’ he 
would say, ‘‘you then throw away the pot and the 
gull, and have anything else in the world for supper. 
Nothing is worse to eat than a sea gull!” 

Except, possibly an ostrich, I should like here to 
add. 

I know of one case where a native had a tame 
ostrich that he taught to decoy other ostriches into 
reach of its master, who then captured the newcomers 
and stripped them of their plumes. 

Both natives and naturalists have done some 


ostrich stalking by making an imitation bird which - 


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A DESERT NINCOMPOOP 189 


they enter and wear among other game. Natives 
fashion the body from long thin sticks covered with 
skin or cloth, dyed with mud to the color of the male 
bird. The legs of the man appear through the 
bottom as the legs of the ostrich. The neck is simply 
a real neck stuffed. 

The wearer of this strange disguise crouches 
inside, holding the neck aloft with one hand. By 
pretending to graze about, peck at its wings and 
wander casually toward the waterhole, the man can 
approach within a few yards of other animals without 
creating the slightest commotion among them. It 
is curious that the ostrich can detect the subterfuge 
at a distance of more than a quarter of a mile, and at 
once becomes panicky at sight of this strange travesty 
on itself. 

I have found that the motion-picture camera 
frightens an ostrich more than does a man, leading 
me to believe that the creatures are more observant 
than one would at first imagine. For the chief 
difference and novelty in the camera is that it has 
three legs, whereas in the ostrich’s whole experience 
all creatures have either four or two. 


CHAPTER XI 
A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 


MUCH doubt if any one who has not tried it has 
any conception of the difficulty connected with 
making wild animal pictures. To see all kinds of 
wild game roving about on the screen, most of the 
time seemingly unaware of the presence of the 
camera and the cameraman, often deludes the 
spectator into thinking that after all it is rather easy 
to photograph them. 

Herein art and skill defeat themselves. The 
better an animal picture is made the less exciting it 
appears to be. The easiest thing to do is to shoot an 
animal with a high-powered rifle at a comfortable 
and safe distance, or to run it down with a motor 
car, picturing the process and its excitements. The 
hardest thing is to picture that same animal in a calm 
undisturbed state of nature. But that is the most 
important thing that the camera can attain. 

I can well remember our first trip to Africa years 
ago. We arrived during the driest part of the dry 
season. All along the railway line from Mombasa to 
Nairobi, Osa and I saw thousands upon thousands 

190 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 101 


of head of wild game—wildebeests, zebra, Tommies, 
Grants, ostrich, giraffe, wart hogs, kongoni and 
eland. We looked spellbound out of the window of 
our compartment. It was the most wonderful sight 
that we had ever seen, and we could hardly wait to 
get off of the train and start photographing. It 
looked so easy that we thought we might have our 
picture done in a few weeks—and have the world’s 
greatest animal picture at that easily! 

Two weeks after we had equipped our safari in 
Nairobi we were out on the Althi plains in our first 
camp. Then came disillusion. Game was every- 
where, but the stubbornly suspicious animals would 
not let us get within camera range. For the first 
three weeks we snapped nothing but extremely long 
range scenes. Then to my sorrow, when I developed 
tests I found that the heat waves that dance in the 
distance had distorted and practically ruined the 
pictures. 

Next we tried building blinds. We spent endless 
hours in them waiting for the game to come down 
to the waterholes within camera range. But there 
were too many waterholes and the whimsical, sus- 
picious animals chose to drink elsewhere. They 
would not come near our blinds. After five weeks we 
gave up and went back to Nairobi. It was not 
going to be as easy as we thought. 

Osa and 1 talked things over and decided on a new 


192 SAFARI 


strategy. We planned to make a long safari of 
nearly four hundred miles up to the arid districts 
in the north of British East Africa where there were 
far fewer waterholes. There we figured the game 
would be forced by thirst to come into the range of 
the cameras. 

This long safari cost us much time and a great . 
deal of money. When we arrived at last we found a 
new set of hampering facts. The nomadic natives 
with their herds were using what waterholes there 
were for their stock by day, and the game came down 
to drink at night. We safaried from one waterhole 
to another until at last we came to one that was 
unmolested by the natives. Again we spent weeks 
in blinds. We had to rebuild the blinds time and 
again, learning a bit at a time about how and where it 
should be done. It was more than four months 
after we landed in Africa before we had a single scene 
worth putting on the screen. | 
_ Problems of wild animal photography are many 
and complex. The camera makes certain demands. 
There must be fair light. Shadows must fall right 
else the picture will be flat and uninteresting. One 
must set up with such angles of view as to avoid 
bald skies and awkward compositions. The footing 
must be stable lest vibrations mar the picture. And 
that is only the beginning. The blind must be built 
to windward of the waterhole so that the human, or 


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A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 193 


inhuman, scent of the camera man does not reach 
the animal on some wafting breeze. If possible, the 
blind should be slightly higher than the spot to be 
pictured because the scent, carried by the rising heat 
of the body, tends to go upward. Also the blind 
must be as perfect a bit of camouflage as possible. 
Wild animals have critical eyes. They do not admire 
a conspicuous blind. It offends their taste in land- 
scape and challenges their sense of discretion. They 
do not enjoy having their Africa tinkered with. 
They do not like the click of a camera either. They 
never get consciously confidential with a photog- 
rapher. African animals have only two lines of 
action with reference to the camera. They either 
run from it or at it. Neither treatment is entirely 
satisfactory to the man behind the camera. 

Most of the members of the numerous antelope 
family and the other grazing animals like the giraffe 
and zebra can be photographed from blinds. Also 
now and then one gets a chance at lions and leopards 
and other beasts of prey which follow the herbivorous 
animals to the waterholes. But there are animals in 
Africa which seldom or never drink—the gerenuk for 
instance. It is but the merest chance if such animals 
stray within the range of a waterhole blind. They 
must be stalked jafoot by the cameraman. It is 
always a stern chase, which is notoriously a long 
chase—with usually nothing more to reward the 


194 SAFARI 


effort than a handsome rear view of a vanishing 
animal with his tail waving goodbye as he goes over 
the hill. 

The elephant presents a special set of problems to 
the camera hunter. Generally speaking, the ele- 
phant sleeps through the day and eats in the cool of 
the evening. We spent weary weeks following vari- 
ous small herds before we could catch them under 
light conditions which would permit the making of 
satisfactory pictures; even then we did not know 
enough of their habits to be able to get close to them. 


We tried to solve our elephant problems by employ-_ 


ing Boculy, probably the greatest of all the black 
elephant trackers in Africa. But he often got us too 
close and we spent more time getting out of the way 
than we did making pictures. 

We had been out on safaris for a little more than 
a year when Osa and I took stock of our results. We 


had spent a large share of the money appropriated | 


for our expedition and felt we did not have enough 
animal pictures to make a satisfactory production. 
We decided we would simply have to take more 
chances and get closer to the animals, else the whole 
project would be a disastrous failure. So we threw 
caution to the winds and with our hearts in our 
mouths went back to work. 

Now the fun started. We got pictures, all right, 
but every picture entailed a definite risk. I am half 


OO ee ee —— 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 195 


afraid now that a good many of our elephant pictures 
are too good. They make the elephant look hardly 
more dangerous than a slightly discontented cow. 
To get these pictures of the elephant in his own 
private home life meant the invasion of places where 
we were never supposed to be, in terms of any 
common sense. Often we had to run for our lives; 
and once we had to shoot our way out of a very bad 
mix-up. I suppose we had fifty close calls before we 
were satisfied with the pictorial results. 

A great deal of the elephant work was in forest 
where pictorial problems are always the most 
difficult. The winds tend to blow from everywhere 
boxing the compass every few hours and carrying 
the scent of the hunter to all nervous animals. 
Further, the light is constantly changing with every 
change of position and directly under the trees there 
is very little light at all. Any trees or grass absorb 
a great deal of light; and one has to give about twice 
as much exposure in timber as on the open plains 
because there is no reflection from the dark trunks 
and leaves. 

From about ten o’clock in the morning until three 
in the afternoon—when the light is the strongest—is 
not a satisfactory time for making pictures because 
with the sun nearly straight overhead, shadows 
obscure details in the animal and at the same time 
make the general scene flat. Moreover, this is the 


196 SAFARI 


worst period of the day for the shimmering heat 
waves which are the bane of African photography. 

Besides all these smaller handicaps there are only 
about seven months of the year when one may expect 
good pictorial conditions. This is through the dry 
season in the months following the two rainy periods. 
During the rains with water abundant everywhere 
the game scatters so widely that the animals are 
hard to find and travelling is difficult. There is a 
slight advantage in camera hunting the elephant 
during the rainy season when he leaves the forest for 
the plains, if one can only be on hand at the time; 
but it is almost impossible to follow him for consider- 
able distances. 

Photography from blinds is practical only in the 
dry season when one has the water to bring the 
thirsty animals into range. Blinds demand patience. 


They must be built and then left for a week or ten. 


days before any attempt is made to use them so 
that the game will get used to considering them a 
natural and harmless part of the landscape. One 
must expect to waste a great deal of the effort made 
in blind work. Often have I built a series of blinds 
commanding a waterhole and then at the very time 
I started to use them the wind would shift against 
all calculations, and blow my scent toward the 
water. 

I have one word of cheer to add to the lore of blind 


—- - 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 197 


photography. After some years of research I find 
that the taboo against smoking in the blinds is all a 
mistake. The animals seem to pay no attention to 
tobacco. Iam not sure why. Perhaps it is because 
the animals are familiar with fires on the bush and 
veldt and the acrid smell of the smoke. But I 
am reluctant to libel the makers of my favorite cigars 
with any inference that their aroma resembles a 
jungle on fire. Anyway it is perfectly safe to take 
comfort in a smoke while waiting the coming of the 
suspicious animals. 

The blind work on our last safari was the most 
difficult that we have ever experienced. This time, 
on top of all the natural difficulties, politics came to 
complicate affairs. A former head of the King’s 
African Rifles on the Northern Frontier of British 
East decided he would solve all the problems of the 
territory by remarking the map. He moved the 
tribes about like checkers on a board, putting each 
tribal unit into a new and unfamiliar locality with 
new neighbors. The result was that none of the 
natives knew the regions that they were compelled 
to callhome. This made them unhappy and restive. 
It also ruined waterhole photography in the district. 
The unsettled natives scattered about all the water- 
holes and built manyettas everywhere, driving the 
- game away and making it wilder than ever. 

On this last safari I managed to bribe several many- 


198 SAFARI 


ettas to move to other watering places with their 
cattle and sheep and camels, leaving me three good 
waterholes for photography. But it was weeks 
before the game came back. Finally, when I built 
my blinds I encountered several weeks of murky 
weather. And after the clouds cleared the country 
became so dry that every movement filled the air 
with alkali dust; and then came prairie fires to add 
smoke to the trouble. I was five months on two 
safaris before I got pictures. It is about the last 
word in camera troubles when one has to buy a 
waterhole to give a zebra a drink—and then gets 
burned out! 

It must be realized, too, that a camera safari is 
much more pretentious and exacting an undertaking 
than a mere hunt where one is concerned only with 
food and ammunition. Photographic equipment alone 
runs to a considerable weight and must be carried in 
duplicate to guard against losses and accidents. On 
one safari, when Daniel Pomeroy was with us, we left 
Nairobi with six motor cars and about forty porters. 
We travelled three days to the north and spent ten 
days trying to get rhino pictures. We saw thirty- 
nine rhinos in the ten days and got close to many 
of them—for a moment. But always they got our 
scent and ran, or they stayed with fiendish persistence 
in places where photography was impossible, or else 
the light failed us. We had to leave after that 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES _199 


difficult and costly trip without a single decent 
picture. A few months later we returned to exactly 
the same region and made a wonderful series of rhino 
pictures in only three days, photographing them 
often as close to the camera as fifty feet. There 
really is such a thing as luck—in Africa. 

Long safaris take up a great deal of time in going 
through gameless regions. Often we have made 
safaris from Lake Paradise requiring five weeks time 
to do one week’s work. Once we made a long camel 
safari into the Ndoto mountains when we did not 
picture one animal. They had all migrated to the 
Horr valley where we did not dare follow because 
wild Habash raiders were in there to poach ivory. 
The Habash do not like to be disturbed at their 
poaching and there are some chances we will not 
take—even for a picture. 

Perhaps the chief photographic problem in Africa 
is involved in the keeping of sensitized materials 
and chemicals. Photo emulsions are made of a 
highly sensitive gelatine impregnated with delicately 
balanced silver salt solutions. Conditions of humid- 
ity and temperature affect the film which must be 
continually safeguarded. This means the use of 
carefully sealed tins, special drying compounds and 
a continuous supply of fresh stock. I kept a steady 
flow of shipments coming from the Eastman Kodak 
plant in Rochester, arriving every few months. 


200 SAFARI 


But delivery out in the blue is some moreofa —> 7 


_ problem than it is in civilization. 

One thing in particular surprised me on our last 
expedition: though many months had elapsed since 
my photographic materials had been packed in 
America and we had had a bad rainy season, these 
did not seem to have deteriorated. And all my 
electric equipment, too, was in good shape. The 
engines started off smoothly with the first turn of the 
fly wheel; the electro-light fluid was right on the 
first testing; and we had lights in the laboratory 
soon after the building was finished. i 

My laboratory at Paradise was my chief delight. 
The walls were high, the entire inside was covered — 
with white canvas, while the canvas on the dark 
room walls was painted a dark red. Here there were 
also little red bulbs, developing tanks fed by six 
inlets of hose running through the logs; and the floor | 
was as smooth as any parquet, for I had had the boys i 
rub the covers of the boxes I used with sand for sat ) 
days. | | 
My all-important water came from a well dug near 
the edge of the lake about 30 feet down, and located — 
three hundred yards from my laboratory. ‘Four 
mules worked from 6:30 A.M. to 3 P.M. bringing the 
water up. Each mule had a pack saddle that held 
one ‘“‘barrimal’’ on each side. A barrimal was 
eight gallons. Thus each mule brought up 16 gallons 


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A DancGEROovUs CUSTOMER. 


For centuries the African buffalo has been widely regarded as the most dangerous of 
all big game animals. It sometimes attacks unprovoked, but the real danger lies in follow- 
ing a wounded buffalo into the thick cover it always seeks when wounded. There it often 
waits beside its tracks and charges without warning. Aside from man, the buffalo’s only 
real enemy is the lion. 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 201 


on a trip. The grand total was 800 gallons a day. 
Any one who recognizes the importance of washing 
in photographic work will appreciate the value of this 
investment of good labor. 

At the well I had to install a semi-rotary pump in 
order to bring up good clear water. But, to be on the 
safe side, every drop was passed through a sand and 
charcoal filter before going into the barrimal. 

When the water reached the laboratory it was 
poured into a 500-gallon tank which had a filter at its 
top. There was still another filter at the bottom 
through which it ran into a 100-gallon tap, and then 
into the darkroom. I don’t think a modern high- 
voltage generator would have seemed more compli- 
cated to my black boys than did all this elaborate 
arrangement of “black magic’’ I put together for 
purifying my photographic water. 

Of course it was vital to develop all my film right 
on the spot. I rigged a big tank for the rinsing that 
followed. A second tank was provided in which the 
film was cleansed for one hour and a half in running 
water. Then ina third and last tank the film soaked 
in water filtered through a special cotton filter I had 
brought from New York. After fifteen minutes it 
was then taken to the drying room. 

As the film went on the drying drum it was run 
through some fine chamois skins that had been 
soaked for days in filtered water. This removed all 


202 SAFARI 


surplus water and took off the last bit of impurity 
that might have stuck to the emulsion. But tomake 
doubly sure I then took another chamois skin and 
ran the film through it again. After this there was 
small chance of water marks. 

When the film had dried and come off the drum I 
mended it, patched blank leader on its ends and 
wrapped it in a special chemical proof paper. It 
was then placed in tins, taped and the entire tin 
dipped in paraffin wax. This made the package 
absolutely air tight. 

Later, when time was available, I fashioned big 
canvas caps for our living quarters and for the 
laboratory. These caps fitted over the entire roofs 
with canvas gutters which carried rain water to six 
hundred gallon tanks at the corners of the houses. 
By this means and with extra tanks I was able to 
store a reserve of 2,400 gallons. 

Of all the things we did I think this home photo- 
graphic work was least understood by the natives. 
It is peculiar that even the most intelligent of them 
cannot understand a picture at first. They turn it 
upside down and on its side trying to find out what 
it is all about. I have shown them the best of my 
flashlights and daytime stills and often they cannot 
tell an elephant from a rhino. 

I had one boy who helped me in the laboratory for 
over a year. At first the pictures meant nothing 


, A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 203 


to him. But as time went on the outlines and 
shadows gradually seemed to make an impression on 
his brain, and finally he literally became a picture 
fiend. He could even tell a good negative from a 
poor one. But it took months for his brain to adjust 
itself to the flat paper. I think it must have been 
absence of depth and stereoscopic effect that made 
the pictures meaningless to him at first. 

This same thing holds true all over the world 
among primitive blacks. A Solomon Island mission- 
ary once told me of a new class of raw savages he 
began to teach. The first lessons were in A-B-C’s on 
big hand charts. As the savages insisted on holding 
the charts upside down ‘“‘and every other which 
way’ the missionary got tired of correcting them, 
hoping it would make no difference later on. How- 
ever, as time passed the habit became fixed. Finally 
when the class came to church they sang with their 
hymn books upside down and read from their upside 
down bibles. They never learned to read with 
their bibles right side up! 

Toward the end of my stay, when I had my best 
elephant film finished I sent for Boculy, my elephant 
guide. I told him to get all the boys up after dark 
and I would show them what I had been doing for 
so long. When they came I never enjoyed a film 
show so much. We gave Boculy a seat on a box 
next to us and then ran off ten thousand feet of film. 


204 SAFARI 


Boculy had never seen a movie before in his life. 
And up to that moment I don’t believe he ever quite 
understood what our crazy wanderings over the hills 
and plains had been about. But when he saw all our 
adventures over again and himself in many of the 
pictures he was simply stunned by the wonder of it. 
He kept repeating ‘“‘Ah-h-h! Ahh-h-h!”” He was 
too full of astonishment even to put his emotion into 
words. He never once took his eyes off the screen 
and when he saw the elephants close up he was the 
most excited person I have ever seen in my life. 
The porters talked and yelled and ‘‘Ah-h-h-d”’ for 
hours after the show. 

In closing this chapter let me say that after thirty 
years of the screen the motion picture is only now 
coming into real recognition as the paramount me- 
dium of record for exploration and nature study. 
The rapidly improving status of the expeditionary 
motion picture, in both the lay and scientific mind, 
and its growing audience, are of special satisfaction 
tome—especially after having devoted nearly twenty 
years of an interested but markedly strenuous career 
to it. | 

Most of the pioneering has been done. Hence- 
forward we who work in this field have the somewhat 


easier labor of building upon the foundation so 
tediously, painfully and expensively laid in the past. 
The real beginning was with Paul J. Rainey’s now 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 205 


classic African Hunt, which was followed by an 
imitative succession of pictures, good and bad. Then 
my own South Seas pictures made ten years or 
more ago gave a certain impetus to the making 
of films of the far and strange places. Several 
interesting influences became evident. The motion 
picture industry became aware, although with some 
timid reservations, that something beside the syn- 
thetic drama of the studios could be considered screen 
merchandise. Various scientific persons and in- 
stitutions were made more conscious of the powers 
and scope of the motion picture camera, not alone 
as an instrument of interpretation. It was seen that 
such film was capable of preserving and carrying to its 
audiences not only the sheer pictorial facts, but also 
something of the atmosphere and intangible qualities 
of the subject. 

Evidences of this power to infect the audience and 
the public mind with spirit and atmosphere through 
the screen are to be found in the very notable wave 
of South Sea literature which rose following the wide 
distribution and success of the South Seas pictures. 

I am inclined to think that if the contents of the 
motion picture were the only record, both the public 
and I would long since have exhausted interest. The 
larger function of the expeditionary picture is inter- 
pretation of the life scenes recorded. Otherwise it 
would be as empty of color and flavor as a map. 


206 SAFARI 


It is also encouraging to note how within the last 
few years it has become apparent that properly made 
expeditionary, adventure and nature pictures now 
have an opportunity, under adequate exploitation, 
to become largely self supporting. It is true that 
never since the Rainey pictures has any picture of this 
type paid such high returns in relation to production 
cost as the successful dramas of the trade. But Iam 
inclined to the belief that an examination of the 
records will show that in point of fact, if averages are 
considered, expeditionary pictures are less speculative 
than studio products. 

It must be borne in mind, too, that the apparent 
record, with stress on the word apparent, is clouded 
considerably by the fact that a great many expedi- 
tionary pictures have been charged with costs of 
production that ought to have been billed against 
entertainment and excitement that had nothing to — 
do with the negative. The expeditionary picture has 
too often been the incidental by-product of a hunt. 
If pictures are to be made for anything besides the 
kodak album, picture making must dominate the 
expedition. 

All this is preliminary to stating my enthusiasms 
for the motion pictorial future of Africa, which now 
is clearly the ‘‘star’’ continent of screen adventure. 

Words have atmosphere and mystic values. 
‘‘Abyssinia,’’ for example, is one of them; Africa is 


A CAMERAMAN’S TROUBLES 207 


another. ‘‘Africa’’ has an exciting, desperate, thrill- 
ing connotation. Africa is better material today 
than ever before. This star value of Africa has 
been building for many years. It began too long 
ago to remember. It got its first relatively recent 
impetus from Paul du Chaillu. Then the tremend- 
ously dramatic Livingstone-Stanley story contrib- 
uted. And there has been a steady increase since, 
with the journeys of Roosevelt, Rainey, Carl Akeley 
and countless others. Africa is today better screen 
material than ever before. 


‘CHAPTER XI] (3 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 


woman to take along we me into the de | 


and jungle. Rae ever a man needed a | partner 1 in | 


were a partner to a man, it is Ga Tees pe: 

The original travel disease was in me. Ira 
away when only a youngster and made several trip 
on cattle boats to Burope, After knocking abou 


terete had come into its own. Voudevilieg was sti | 
more important than the pictures. My chief bt 
ness rival ran a theatre on the other side of town. I 
figured his success came from having a wife whe 
could sing. Nothing should do but that I meet this 


competition by securing a singer. 
208 


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*dVOIGNVAH V UGGN() SALINVLOGTGT VAMAANOT 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 209 


IT heard of a young girl in a nearby town by the 
name of Osa Leighty who was said to have a good 
voice. I hopped a train and went up to see her. 
She was all for the adventure, just as she has been 
ever since. But her mother was outraged at the idea 
of my taking away her beautiful young daughter who 
was still nothing but a child. 

That was Friday. For two days Osa and I talked 
things over pretty seriously. I got a glimpse of her 
character and I guess she got a taste of my stubborn- 
ness. At any rate we solved our problem. On 
Sunday we were married. 

At that time Osa had never been over thirty miles 
from home. ‘Today I believe she is the most widely 
travelled woman in the world. 

I soon found married life wasn’t all a bed of roses. 
Naturally Osa got a little homesick at first. And her 
mother missed her a lot. So she had to go home 
every nowandthen. These visits often stretched out 
into days and weeks. Like every other young 
husband I felt torn between my business and my 
wife. Also I was dismayed to find that my desire 
to wander was coming back full force. 

One day I put it right up to Osa. “I’m going to 
sell the business. We can go to the west coast and 
take a boat to the Islands. If we get some good film 
it will be worth all the trouble.” 

It was just about that time Emmet Dalton was 


210 SAFARI 


making money in Kansas City showing pictures 
duplicating the notorious Dalton raid in which his 
father and family were killed. 

Again Osa looked hard facts in the face. She knew 
that my plan meant choosing between her mother 
and myself. She loved both of us and she was a 
truly domestic girl. She had never wanted to gad 
about or to leave the part of the country in which she 
was brought up. She hesitated. 

“Tt will be a tough trip,” I told her frankly. 

I remember she stood up and looked me in the eye. 
A regular writer would say she met the crisis like a 
real man. But knowing her, I can say that a real 
woman acts just the same way as a real man does. 

“T’ll go with you, Martin,” she told me quietly. 
I don’t think any man could love a woman more than 
I loved her at that moment. I knew how much 
courage her decision took. 

Don’t think we were well off. True we sold out 
before we left. But that didn’t much more than — 
stake us to the trip. On the way west I showed 
some of my film and gave talks on my projected 
voyage to the South Seas. Osa did her share by 
dressing up like a native dancer and singing a couple 
of Hawaiian songs. 

It was on this trip that a new trait showed up in 
the girl. Man-like I mixed with other business men 
on our way west. I heard a good deal to discourage 


é. 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 211 


me in my plan. I had tempting opportunities to 
break off and go into other lines of business. Several 
times I wavered. 

One night I explained a particularly attractive 
offer to Osa in our hotel. ‘‘You know we might be 
barking up the wrong tree,’’ I reminded her. ‘‘May- 
be it would be better to stop here and look this 
proposition over.”’ 

She hopped off the edge of the bed as if she had sat 
on a tack. She grabbed the lapel of my coat and 
gave it a shake. 

‘‘Look here, Martin Johnson,’ she exclaimed. 
““You are the one who started us on this South Sea 
Island business. I agreed to go there with you. 
And that’s where I’m going. So don’t be flirting 
around with these other things until we’ve got this 
first job done!”’ 

Well, there was no use arguing when she felt like 
that. Many a time since then she’s kept me on a 
straight course. I think a man’s wife can be keel 
and rudder to him at times. 

Osa’s tenacious enthusiasm as much as anything 
else inspired me to do something big. I planned a 
five reel feature showing life in the South Seas. 
That wouldn’t mean much these days. But at that 
time no one had attempted anything of the sort 
longer than one reel. I chose the title “Cannibals 
of the South Seas.’’ Osa confessed afterward that 


212 SAFARI 


the very word “‘cannibal’’ made her shudder. But 


she never winced at the time. 

Nor did she wince when, a little later, she was 
captured by the savage man-eaters we were out to 
film. 

We sailed west in a small ship. I knew Osa was 
brave. But it took more than bravery to combat 
seasickness. To my joy she didn’t have a single hour 
of illness. To this day she has never known what 
that scourge of the sea-traveller is like, despite the 
tiny craft and terrible storms we have gone through 
in our wanderings. 


‘“‘Oh, yes, she’s got a strong stomach,” said an 


older woman scornfully once when I mentioned it. 

But I don’t believe this is the whole truth. I 
think Osa’s profound delight in our work and the 
thrill with which she looks forward to our next 
adventure adds enormously to her bodily resistance 
to ills that overwhelm the diffident tourist. To my 


mind she is an excellent sample of mental state 


governing health. : 

We got into trouble with the cannibals through 
my own rashness. Our destination at the time was 
the island of Malekula in the New Hebrides. 
Government officials warned me against the natives. 
“They are our subjects on the map,” explained one 
officer. ‘‘But acannibal doesn’t know a map from 
a kangaroo.”’ . 


SS oe a : es j — ; 
~~ oe es o% > il a ms 
EE an ee a ee 


canal 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 213 


About all the effect this advise had on me was to 
swell the mental picture I had of my film’s future 
earnings. 

I won’t go into details. It isn’t a pleasant story. 
But Osa and I landed on Malekula full of confidence. 
It was all jungle surrounded by a coral beach. We 
foolishly went right in among the black savages and 
began to film them. We got separated and were 
taken prisoners. Osa was led to a village and I was 
headed for the pot. Luckily the commanding officer 
of a British man-of-war, on hearing of our projected 
visit to the island, got worried and came after us. 
He effected our rescue just in time. 

Naturally I felt a little conscience-stricken for 
having gotten Osa in such a mess. ‘‘Had enough of 
this?’’ I asked her soon afterward. 

‘“‘Have you got the film you came after?’’ she 
retorted. 

I confessed I hadn’t. 

“Then let’s get it,’’ said she firmly. 

How could a man fail with a wife like that? 

Now that we were both broken in and knew our 
cocoanuts, so to speak, we chartered a little yawl 
and went up among the Solomon Islands. On the 
Snark Jack London had shown me the most interest- 
ing spots of this charming group. 

Osa had her troubles from the outset. I had hired 
a black boy to cook for us and the crew. The second 


214 SAFARI 


day out he developed an infected hand. As a result 
our single lady passenger had to work throughout 
the voyage in a two-by-four galley preparing meals 
for us both. Frankly, that was one job I couldn’t 
have begun to have done. 

In all we cruised over six hundred miles clear up to 
the southernmost of the Solomons, Owa-raha Island. 
Osa helped me with the photographic work when she 
had finished with her pots and pans. We both slept 
on the teak deck. Our camp equipment was so 
limited that while ashore we bunked in native huts. 
Had it not been for Osa’s courageous example I am 
not sure I could have stood the dirty grass houses and 
odoriferous natives. 

“T’ve smelt worse right in civilization,’’ she laugh- 
ingly told me. 

Her biggest thrill seemed to come when we crossed 
afoot the Island of Malaita. Ina way the trip was a 
sort of stunt. No white people had ever been across 
before. Also it promised to give us priceless views 
for the film we were slowly building. We should 
never have been able to go except that a government 
exploring party was making the trip and the leader 
was kind enough to invite us along. 

I remember he called me aside and inquired anx- 
iously: ‘‘Are you sure your wife can stand it?” 

‘Pretty sure,’’ said I, smiling to myself. 

“How do you know?”’ 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 215 


“Well, if she can’t, I certainly can’t!’’ was the best 
reason I could think of. 

It was a rough trip all right. Every moment of it 
we were in danger from the wild tribes that haunted 
the jungle through which we plodded. Our army olf 
black boys were just as frightened as we were; more 
so, in fact, for they knew what it meant to be tortured 
by the cannibals. 

Here it was that Osa first began to develop her 
natural talent for rifle shooting. I call it a talent 
because she had never done any shooting as a girl. 
Yet with a few days practice she began to bring in 
pigeons, wild goat and fish as a result of her 
marksmanship. 

Another trait she brought forward unexpectedly 
was her quick mastery of native lore. Inno time she 
picked up a smattering of local dialects and spent 
long hours over our campfires listening to tales of 
hunting and superstition. As the years have gone on 
she has developed this hobby until she speaks Malay 
and Swahili fluently and has endeared herself to 
natives of many tribes by her sympathetic interest in 
their lives and beliefs. 

Just about the time we began to feel at home among 
the Solomon Islands we had an experience that nearly 
ended our adventuring forever. The little vessel on 
which we were cruising had to go back to get more 
supplies and to pick up the British commissioner. 


216 SAFARI 


Osa agreed to stay with me ashore while I went ahead 
with my work. I should say she zmsisted on staying, 
because I don’t believe she would ever desert me even 
if I tried to force her to go. 

We had just landed on one of the smaller islands. 
We didn’t know it at the time, but several white 
people had been killed there by the natives shortly 
before. 

As we disembarked in the dark the natives didn’t 
know we were there. Next morning they were hold- 
ing some kind of fiesta. With fine innocence we 
decided it was a good chance for pictures and boldly 
entered the crowd. The first thing we knew a perfect 
bedlam broke loose. Women screamed and about 
two thousand wild and wholly naked men came 
dashing up to us armed with spears and poison 
arrows which they brandished in the air while they 
screeched at the top of their lungs. We had our guns 
ready. Osa did not flinch. But it would have done 
no good to fire, we were so outnumbered. 

Later we learned that it was the confusion which 
saved our lives. There was so much racket that 
when a wild rumor spread among the natives to the 
effect that there were more of us around the point, 
they believed it and fled. Providentially our boat 
returned at this critical moment and took us off. 

When we had recovered somewhat from this close 
call I tried to make light of the experience by saying 


¥ rm 
SS ae a se a oe 


oe, ee ee 
ae 


Po a 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 217 


to Osa: “Well, how did you like those fellows?”’ 

She shook her head and smiled one of her knowing 
smiles. ‘‘They’re not nice people, Martin,”’ she said, 
“And you know they’re not.”” That was her only 
comment. 

I thought the poor girl was going to have a rest 
after that harrowing experience. But we made a 
foolish mistake a few weeks later that got us into 
almost as bad a jam. Wevisited the Leuneuwa La- 
goon about three hundred miles further north where 
the tribes are not so hostile to white men. But they 
are very superstitious. When Osa followed me into 
one of their “‘devil houses”’ there was literally the 
devil to pay. 

No woman was ever allowed in one under pain of 
death. The natives couldn’t understand us and we 
didn’t know a word of their tongue. So for days it 
looked as if our lives weren’t worth five cents. 
Finally things quieted down and we were able to get 
away with whole skins. Why, we never knew. 

During these years I learned that a healthy woman 
has just as much vitality as a man. I always had 
good health and plenty of muscle. But often when 
I have been ready to give up in despair Osa has been 
still full of pep and ready to go on. 

I remember once when we got caught out in a 
small open boat among the islands. The weather 
was tough and we had practically no food. The 


218 SAFARI 


black boys with us were ready to beach the boat and 
take a chance on being marooned. Iam frank to say 
that I had about reached the same state of mind. 
But not Osa. She picked up her gun and held it on 
our mutinous crew. ‘‘I’ll shoot the first boy that 
goes over the side,’’ she told them. And the tone 
of her voice showed she meant it. 

Do you wonder I hate to see the way women in 
America are so often pampered and spoiled when I 
know how fine they are underneath their surface 
polish. | 

Many a doctor has told me that a normal woman’s 
endurance is the equal of any man her age. I have 
seen Osa come in scores of times after a hard day in 
the field when I could hardly drag one foot after the 
other, and go to work in the kitchen seeing that the 
evening meal is being cooked right. 

After a visit to Australia and the Malay Peninsula, 
with some exciting times in Borneo, we finally drifted © 
down into Africa. There I chose a permanent field 
for my future work, which is preservation of wild life 
in film form. Africa is the last large unspoiled 
country where one can find game as it was before 
mankind spread around the globe, ruthlessly driving 
all life before him. 

By this time Osa was thoroughly imbued with a 
love for the outdoors. She was a better shot than I, 
got along splendidly with natives and loved travelling 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 219 


through the wilderness with a passion equalled only 
by my own intense pleasure in animal photography. 

By happy fortune we discovered a lovely and long 
lost lake up in the Kenya country in the crater of an 
extinct volcano. Four years ago we made our 
second long visit to Africa and built a permanent 
home on this water which we named Lake Paradise. 
There, surrounded by wild elephants and black 
half-naked savages Osa entered her latest adventure 
in outlandish domesticity. 

For many weeks after our arrival I watched her 
curiously. Before we had always come home. Now 
we might visit back in the States, but our true home 
was in that far corner of wildest Africa. 

As usual, Osa ran true to form. She entered into 
the spirit of the whole project from the very start. 
When we erected our main lodge with logs hewn 
from the forest and a roof thatched from native 
grass she built her boudoir with her own hands. 

This boudoir was a nice big cool room fourteen by 
sixteen feet, or nearly as large as an expensive hotel 
room in New York. She laid the floor herself from 
some fruit boxes we had among our stores. While I 
was busy getting up the laboratory she directed the 
plastering of the walls with mud—native fashion. 
This doesn’t sound very nice when you read it. 
But if you could have seen how firmly and hard that 
African clay dried, and how attractive it was when 


220 SAFARI 


tinted a light rose pink by a wash made from a light 
dust one of the native maids found in a near-by 
bank, you would scarcely believe that the whole 
interior had not been planned by some famous 
decorator. 

Inner partitions were made of slender sticks cut 
green and woven into artistic designs. Little items 
like towel racks Osa made herself out of odds and 
ends left over by the native builders. She painted 
her bathroom white with many coats until it gave 
a soft milky glow when the sunlight filtered in 
through the shade trees without. She even built her 
own tables and one or two of her lighter chairs. She 
had never looked on herself as carpenter before. 
She started the jobs at first just to kill time while the 
men were tied up with their building operations. 
But she soon found that it was one of the most 
fascinating games at which she had ever played. 

She planted a garden with sweet potatoes and 
asparagus init. She tended the chickens and ran the 
dairy where we made butter from fresh milk provided 
by the cows we bought from the natives. 

She shot quail and guinea hen on the trail. She 
organized our laundry force. She taught the blacks 
to cook meat. and bake bread. She was my com- . 
missary steward; not an easy job five hundred miles 
from the nearest grocery store. 

In the serious work she also took a very serious 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 221 


part. She handled the gun while I cranked the 
camera. 

Twice she has dropped elephants at my feet. 

Once a lion came charging for me in the open with 
swift powerful springs. I dared crank because Osa 
held the gun. At fifteen feet she fired. The enraged 
beast stumbled but came on. She fired again. This 
time she dropped him so close I could touch his mane 
with my toe. 

The feeling that Osa is so accurate a shot means a 
lot in my camera work. I am usually intent on the 
focussing and speed of film, and often do not even 
realize the: danger facing us. Osa stands there 
coolly, gun in hand. If the game is too quiet she 
wanders forward cautiously and stirs it up. She 
seems to have no nerves. 

Let me quote a typical passage from Osa’s diary. 
‘She went down to the lake one morning and met one 
of those little adventures which would likely be up- 
setting to a woman not used to the jungle, but which 
to Osa has become just routine. 

““On my way back,” she says, “I climbed down 
through some dense growth to the water’s edge. 
Just as I emerged I heard a thud and the breaking of 
a branch a few yards away. I glanced up and found 
myself looking into the beady eye of a huge elephant. 
He was just as surprised as I was. 

‘““*T)on’t move,’ whispered the black with me. 


222 SAFARI 


‘‘Believe me, I couldn’t move. I was rooted to the 
spot. The funny part was that Martin on the other 
side of the Lake happened to pick up his binoculars 
and see me through them at this very minute. 
There was nothing he coulddo. Anyway he knew me 
well enough to realize that if the elephant came for 
me I’d go up a tree like a cat. Many a time I was 
treed by rhino or elephants within earshot of our 
house. 

‘The elephant didn’t seem a bit angry or worried. 
He waggled his ears and switched his little tail about 
and just stared. I think he’d have scratched his 
head if he could have, he looked so puzzled. Finally, 
he decided to see what I would do if he went away. 
So he backed into the forest a few yards until he was 
out of sight. That was my cue to go. I quickly 
slipped away along the shore. A few minutes later I 
looked back. The elephant had returned and was 
drinking quietly without looking up.” : 

Another time she wrote: 

“Much of our diet came from the forest. I used 
to wander through the heavily timbered land back 
of us and pick up wild asparagus, wild apricots, 
mushrooms and so forth. : 

“But I had to keep my eyes open. One exciting 
morning I had just located a nice patch of mushrooms 
when I heard a crash and a snort behind me. I 
whirled about expecting an elephant. There stood 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 223 


one of the largest rhinos I think I have ever looked at. 
He was furious. He pawed the ground and swung his 
head to and fro. I knew he was going to charge. 

“A rhino doesn’t wait around and think things 
over the way an elephant does. His temper is too 
short. Almost before I could jump for a tree this 
fellow started forme. Luckily I found a low branch 
before he reached me. I climbed as high as I could 
and sat quietly but quaking. After a lot of pawing 
around and snorting the old scoundrel finally decided 
he was outwitted and left. 

‘“‘T never did get along with rhinos the whole time 
we were out there,’ she goesontosay. ‘‘Somehow I 
was always getting mixed up with one. And they are 
such irritable ill-mannered beasts that I dislike them 
as much as they seem to dislike me. 

“One day I had been out with Martin after elephant 
films. We had had an unusually good day. We 
were returning to our camp outside the forest which 
held our village. We had just come out into the open 
from some brush when an elephant turned up. 

““*You go on, Osa,’ said Martin. ‘I'll see if I can’t 
get a picture or two.”’ 

‘““As the animal was off the trail it looked as if I 
could pass him unnoticed. 

“T took another trail to beon the safe side. Martin 
circled around and in about fifteen minutes came 
over toward me. He roused a rhino on the way. I 


224 SAFARI | 
was riding a mule. The first thing I knew the rhino 


and mule saw each other at the same time. And 


both were scared. 
“Then began the strangest race in nistoee The 


trail was narrow. And both beasts had to follow — 


it for a while. I hung on for dear life while the rhino 
tried to escape the mule and the terrified mule tried 
to escape the rhino. As the rhino was a little behind 
it would have been the end of me to have fallen off. 
Finally the rhino beat the mule and I was saved.” 
Nevertheless, I had to leave Osa with an exacted 


promise not to stray far from camp without Ndundu, — 


the gun-bearer, and a threat to Bukhari, the headman, 
to skin him alive if he didn’t guard her. The threat, 
however, was almost unnecessary, so far as our boys 


were concerned. All were devoted to her; and Bu- 


khari would sooner have lost his own life than hers. 
The Nubians, the most aristocratic of African races, 
are all that way. Up in their north country, a 


Nubian guide simply cannot return to his villageifhe — 


comes back with a single soul missing from a party 
he has taken out. It is a matter of honor and tradi- 
tion with the race. 


Even if it were not, Bukhari’s character is such that 
he would die for her. _And he is a splendid-looking - 
fellow, with his strong reliable features, his fine | 


head and muscles that ripple over his arms like 
little rapids of the river over boulders. None could 


A Fine Type or Meru. 


Songa, Chief and son of a chief, represented the finest type of Meru nobility, which 
was borne out in both his features and bearing. 


Boerancaeee 
( 


4 ey 
B.'s, — 
oth, P65. een sgeeen*? *? 
, » K 
* % 


Pate: as hae a3 e% 
+ - a th 


a? 


A Necxkuacr Mabe or Evepuants’ Tali.s. 


We estimated that the tailsof atleast twenty elephants wentintothe making of this 
Samburu lady’s necklace. The Samburu people belong to about the lowest tribe in East 
Africa—a homeless tribe which migrates with the grass and water over the face of the 
Kaisoot desert. 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 225 


be more considerate than he in little things and the 
same held true of many of the boys. If Osa came in 
tired, they had the pot boiling on the camp fire and 
soon hada cup of tea ready. And they continually 
watched out for wild animals and let her take no 
unnecessary risks if they could prevent it. 

I have never seen the porters’ eyes so vigilant 
on the grass and path for those coiling cobras as when 
she is along. Sometimes when I have berated them 
I think they would have liked to see one strike me; 
but there would be such a wail of native mourning go 
up from the camp that all Africa would hear if any- 
thing happened to Osa. 3 

There is no question about it, ours was an unnerv- 
- ing lifefora woman. As all the rest of us were men I 
suppose we didn’t half give Osa credit for the shocks 
her femininity must sometimes have received. For 
even though she was the best sport in the world about 
it all, she was still a woman. 

I remember one day we were jolting along in our 
trucks over the awful trail near Mt. Kenya on the 
way up to Lake Paradise when the car Osa was driv- 
ing jolted over something soft and yielding. 

“Martin, Abdullah, come here. I’ve run over 
someone!’’ she screamed. 

Coming to a stop with a jerk, I ran up, and flashed 
my pocket lamp on the body of a native boy who 
appeared to be about fifteen years old. His face was 


226 SAFARI 


slashed and so was his throat; insects were crawling 
in the coagulated blood; and when I turned him over 
we saw that his back had been slashed very deep. 

Osa was trembling. 

“Tt is not your fault,’’ I said to comfort her. “We 
can charge that to leopards.”’ 

But I had jumped to too swift a conclusion, for 
Abdullah shook his head and said in gruff Swahili: 
“Nothing that walks on four feet, something that 
walks on two, did for him, Bwana.” | 

I next examined the kapandi in the little case 
around his neck. This is the official document, or 
working paper, which every native must carry to 
show who is his present employer, who his last, 
and is a great aid in catching deserters. I was glad to 
find that it was not one of my own boys. Still, that 
was small relief, for it opened up the possibility that 
one of my force might have been the murderer. And 
to back this murder theory we found, clutched in his 
hand, little pebbles with which the boys sometimes 
play a crude game of chance. 

I remember one ugly experience we had with 
elephants when only Osa’s nerve saved my life. 
She was terribly frightened, just as often a brave 
man is frightened. But in spite of her fear she stood 
by her guns and made it possible for me to be alive 
and write this story today. | 

This happened before we built our Lake Paradise 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 227 


home. In the early days on a former expedition, I 
used to collect a little ivory occasionally. One day 
we came on a small herd in an open space that 
promised easy shooting. Looming above the females 
was an old bull with a fine long gleaming pair of tusks 
below his chin. 

None of the elephants saw us. I whispered to Osa 
to stay by the camera while I went in closer for a shot. 
I knew there was a good chance of some interesting 
film if one of the beasts charged me. 

As I crept forward I kept my gun at ready. One 
can never tell whether an elephant will charge or run 
away and I did not want to lose my tusker, 

Suddenly the big fellow glanced up and saw me. 
As I was very close, I fired. I thought I had hit him 
in a vital spot. Indeed, had Osa been the hunter, 
the victim would probably have fallen then and there. 
But somehow I missed the small brain area which 
the bullet must penetrate to be fatal. 

The bull jumped and charged. I ran at top speed 
toward Osa. She was cranking the camera, getting 
priceless film as I fled for my life. It may seem to 
the reader that she was callous in letting the charging 
elephant come after me and doing nothing about it 
except take my picture. But her quick eye caught 
the fact instantly that the elephant was not gaining 
much. 

The great danger to me lay 1n the possibility that I 


228 SAFARI 


might stumble. Osa knew this as well as I. More 
than once she had had to run over rough ground to 
escape rhinos. Also. holding my rifle and glancing 
over my shoulder made my movements awkward. 


Out of the corner of her eye Osa kept watch on her — 


gun-bearer. This wasa black boy whose duty it was 
to remain at her elbow and hand out her rifle in 
emergency. Here again she took a chance because 
the natural impulse of the native was to flee. 

Of course the other elephants in the herd came 
after the big bull. That is the instinct of most 
animals which travel in groups. The sight of the 
huge lumbering beasts pounding along in a charge 
that was meant to wipe us all off the map was enough 
to make anyone shiver. I think Osa did more shiver- 
ing than I because she was standing still and could 
see more. 

She cranked as long as she dared. Then she 
reached down and grabbed her gun. Under ordinary 
circumstances I like to see her shoot. She has a 
natural grace about her whole act of marksmanship 
that is rare. But this time I was in no mood to 
appreciate anything but escape. 

In a split second she had the rifle to her shoulder 
and fired. I swerved as the mortally wounded 
elephant thundered past and fell with a thud that 
shook us all. 

Seeing that the others of the herd were checked 


i. a - - = 
ae a ee ae ee 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 229 


and that our danger was over I stepped up to Osa 
for a word of admiration. She was very pale. 

“I—I guess I have to sit down for a minute, 
Martin,’ she said. 

I didn’t blameher. My own knees felt a little weak. 

To Osa I attribute in a large measure the comfort 
and efficiency of our camps on safari. Sheit was who 
as commissary officer of my party worked out much 
of the routine as well as the food supplies. 

Near noon we usually stopped and rested men and 
animals in whatever shade might be available. 
Then we would be off again soon after the sun had 
- crossed the meridian. The order to stop in the 
evening came enough before sunset to give plenty of 
time to make a proper camp. While we were un- 
packing, our personal boys made a quick fire and hot 
water for tea. As soon as this was ready we sat and 
sipped it while the other unpacking went on apace. 
We didn’t sit on the ground and hold our cups in our 
hands. We sat on folding chairs and our cups were | 
placed on a folding table. 

By the time we had finished our tea, our baths 
were ready in our individual tents. Osa never left 
out her bath at this time of the day, no matter how 
tired or discouraged she was. To step out of a tub 
and into fresh clean garments that had been laun- 
dered and ironed and laid out for one was like starting 
life all over again. 


230 SAFARI 


Now the sun was nestling on the horizon. Long 
purple shadows were creeping over the plains. The 
night cries of wild animals had not yet begun. On 
our little table had been laid a snowy white table- 
cloth. Napkins and spotless porcelain were at each 
place. Hors d’euvres were served as we took our 
seats. Then came a simple soup and an enirée with 
vegetables. If we had been away from the base less 
than a week we had a salad of fresh greens out of my 
garden. <A sweet of some sort usually topped off the 
meal. Thus we ate a balanced diet, and we ate it in 
the most tranquil and contented state of mind. 

We have never had to fight to keep down weight. 
I weighed 207 pounds when I left America. In nine 
months I was down to 164, all good hard muscle. 
Osa dropped from 130 to 115 pounds in the same 
period. She wasn’t thin either; and she said she 
never felt so well in her life as she did when she had 
gotten rid of that excess fat. | \ 

Before Osa went to bed in her roomy cot with its 
clean sheets, she rubbed her face thoroughly with a 
good dose of cold cream. With the help of her native 
maid she always did her hair completely before break- 
fast out on the trail as well as at home. In the early 
days of our stay she selected this girl herself. The 
negress was a six-foot girl of the Boran tribe which © 
lived a good ways beyond our district. She was 
twenty-four years old, black as tar, with broad 


3 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN __231 


shoulders and a fine robust figure. Her name was the 
rather unpronounceable one of ‘‘Guyuaka.’’ Prop- 
erly used it sounded not unlike the quack of a duck. 

This girl’s duties were to take care of Osa just as a 
maid would at home. Of course she didn’t know the 
first thing about a white woman’s life. But she was 
willing and interested, and she took a childish pride 
in everything Osa did. As time passed she became 
more and more devoted, until she was worried every 
time Osa went out where lions or elephants or other 
dangerous big game might be met. 

One night Osa had gone further from the base than 
she had meant to go. I was away on another party. 
It was very dark and Osa was alone except for her 
gun-bearer and several native hunters. Now and 
then big shadowy animals crossed the trail ahead of 
them. When a rhino came too close, the boys scared 
him away by shouting at the top of their lungs. 
Every minute Osa expected a leopard to spring at 
them through the high grass. 

When the party reached camp, Guyuaka was 
waiting up for Osa with tea. Her hand shook as she 
held out the cup and it was plain that she had been 
crying. When Osa questioned her she found out 
that the black had heard gunshots out on the plains 
and was positive that Osa had been attacked by 
wild beasts. That night Osa awakened and found 
the maid kneeling by her bed praying to the Boran 


- 


232 SAFARI 


Gods to protect her mistress from the terrible things 
for which Osa had no proper respect or fear. 

In everything Osa did she tried to be as normal 
as possible. She wore no fancy hunting costumes, 
yet always had a change of color, even though slight. 
Nice browns and grays were her favorites. 

I think she tried to see life through the eyes of the 
wild animals we photographed. When they resented 
our presence in their domain, Osa, like me, grew to 
understand how they felt and to be tolerant of their 
anger. Neither of us had to try to like the natural 
joys of our life, good plain food, plenty of exercise 
and as much laughter in our waking hours as the law 
would permit. 

All these things boiled down into a sort of philo- 


sophy ot contentment. To this contentment, rather 


than to any single item of my régime, we attributed 
our perfect health. 


You wouldn’t think Osa could keep her feminine — 


looks and personality in such a life as we lead. But 
she does. Her photographs show how young and 
fresh her expression is. (An acquaintance who 
doesn’t know her has suggested they might have been 
taken before she went to Africa. But these were 
taken on her last trip.) 

I think her perfect health has more to do with her 
looks than any other single factor. Next comes her 
enthusiasm for our work. Her habits are regular 


oe) eee x 
Ten ee ra 


MY WIFE HOLDS THE GUN 233 


and she always has plenty of hard work on hand. 
When she is in the field she often rides and walks 
fifteen or twenty miles a day. At home she is con- 
tinually tinkering with her garden or about our house. 
She rises early and goes to bed soon after dark. 

She is not introspective. Indeed, I have never 
known a person to think so little of self. 

I have been asked if it is much of an effort to keep 
Osa from the pursuits of other women. I confess 
that she is normal enough to like pretty clothes and 
bridge and dancing. Sometimes at home in America 
I have a sneaking fear that such things are weaning 
her away from me and our work. But there always 
comes a time when she secretly slips back to me and 
whispers: “Oh, Martin, I’ll be so glad when we get 
back to Africa!” 

People wonder what Osa and I talk about on our 
long safaris often with no companions other than the 
hundred or so black porters who handle our camels 
and carry our baggage. 

We talk much about the things that mean the least 
to us. In human beings there is always the desire 
to know what the other fellow thinks. We talk 
about America and wonder what the folks are doing 
back there. We talk of happenings of the day. 
So-and-so did this or that wrong; we must tell him 
not to do it again. 

We do less talking together than people in civiliz- 


me 
i 
i 


Co 


We are so close and 


perfect that I think we exc 
It means a lot to have a real pa 


| Ss | Se ee 
2 
=) a 
: to) : . 
- doea. 
= a 8 iS ; 


CHAPTER XIII 
VISITORS AND ILLNESS 


HEN Fate gets good and busy we poor mortals 
must take her lashings as best we may. 
Our last eighteen months in Africa, which should 
have been our best, were in some ways our hardest 
through no fault of our own. I think the toughest 
time Osa and I went through together was during the 
only serious illness we have ever had. And while 
the siege came after the events I shall presently 
relate, I am going to describe it first because it 
illuminates the difficulties the tourist may face if he 
strays too far from the beaten path. I think we 
escaped death only because we were too well seasoned 
by many years in the field. 

For years snow-capped Mt. Kenya had been 
beckoning us with a white finger across the wide 
plains. Finally in our fourth winter of our last 
expedition we set out to climb to the top of the 
mountain and make films of the snow and ice up 
there in contrast to the elephants and other tropical 
animal life we had so faithfully recorded. 

We sent seven mules, fifteen porters and three 

235 


236 SAFARI 


syces ahead to a base camp near the foot of the 
mountain in early January. On the 14th I sent 
fifteen more. And the following day we set out 
with our faithful Willys-Knight trucks and Osa’s new 
Six” for our climb. 

On the 16th we reached Chogoria Mission, on the 
slopes of the mountain. There we talked over our 
plans with Dr, Irwine and his wife who were staying 
at the station. On the same afternoon we continued 
on up the ascent for about five miles more. Near 
our camp we found two Swiss aviators who were 
flying from Switzerland to the Cape. Their machine 
had broken down near Jinga on the Lake and they 
took time for a climb while repairs were being made. 

On the 17th we signed on about fifty Meru porters 
with the help of Dr. Irwine. Our assistant, John 
Wilshusen, went into Meru for blankets, as we had 
to give every one two. We had to get “‘Gee”’ in 
petrol tins to take the place of meat. To supply my 
Nairobi boys and the Meru porters I had to buy 
nearly a hundred and ninety blankets. 

Early in the morning of the 18th we set out. We 
climbed continually up through most beautiful 
forests with rhino, elephant and buffalo spoor every- 
where, but we did not see any animals. The boys 
had to rest every thirty minutes for the grade was 
very steep. At 5 o’clock we camped at the edge 
of a bamboo forest in a most beautiful clearing which 


Te Pf - l e, oe | 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 237 


was one mass of color with wild flowers. Before dark 
it was so cold that the boys huddled about their 
fires and we wore our overcoats. 

On the morning of the 19th we entered the bamboo. 
There was not another tree of any kind; nothing 
but bamboo about fifty feet tall and so dense that 
daylight scarcely filtered through. Five boys went 
ahead all the time to clear the trail. Bonga tracks 
were all over the place but I don’t see how anyone 
could hunt them, for it would be almost impossible to 
get through the forest without cutting; and dry bam- 
boo on the ground cracked like firecrackers. 

About noon we suddenly came out of the bamboo 
into scrub country. The bamboo forest was most 
interesting in as much as it started suddenly and 
ended suddenly, with no straggling at the edges. 
From noon to about four o’clock we went through 
the most beautiful country I have ever seen any- 
where; rolling plains with beautiful groves of scrub 
trees which were loaded down with moss. Kenya 
loomed ahead with rugged beauty. By this time 
the wind was very cold, although the sun shone 
brightly. We had the most peculiar feeling; hot 
and still cold. I mean by this that without sweaters 
we were chilled, but by bundling up with sweaters 
we would sweat; and if we took off our hats our 
heads would get hot. 

At four we left the timber line and came into short 


238 SAFARI 


grass country with boulders and stones all over the 
place; no trees, but lots of small scrub bushes with 
gnarled roots above the ground. Thirty minutes 
after leaving timber line we came to what was called 
the first rest at 12,000 feet. 

Before going further I will describe the origin of 
these rest houses. A few years ago, a Mr. Carr, who 
is a retired millionaire jam manufacturer from 
England, with three hundred porters, spent several 
months in clearing a road through the forest. His 
idea was to make the road direct to the snow line. 
But this first rest house was as far as he got. Here 
he and his porters erected a portable house that 
looked like the portable garages we have at home. 
As they could not get the road further they carried 
the other rest house up a few thousand feet and 
erected it, but winds have blown it away. 

We did not use the rest house that night; but had a 
tent set up. It was so cold that we could not sleep. 
In the night the boys started coughing and muttering 
for they, too, were sleepless. In the morning our 
basin was frozen over, and both Osa and I had bad 
colds. Five boys had fevers of over 103 and I had 
one of 102. We decided to rest a day and start on 
the next, as I was in no condition to walk. Here 
we left the mules, as the grade was almost straight 
up. It got our wind so badly that we could only walk 
a short distance at a time. Besides, we had to 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 2309 


rearrange the boys’ loads, as they could no Jonger 
carry a full sixty pounds. 

After lunch I felt better. Osa and I with porters 
carrying cameras started up the trail to see what we 
could photograph. I think it was this trip that did 
us in. For in trying to reach a ridge where we 
expected to get good pictures we over-exerted our- 
selves and climbed all of two thousand feet. As 
we were further away from camp than we thought, 
we did not get back until after dark. We were 
chilled through by then and both went to bed with- 
out dinner. 

In the middle of the night our temperatures went 
up again until I had 104 and Osa 102. We called 
the boys and had hot water bottles prepared and hot 
whiskey made. But by morning we were very ill 
with fits of coughing. Osa’s temperature kept rising 
and her breathing was so fast that I was badly 
frightened; so much so that I offered heavy baksheesh 
to a couple of boys to hurry down the mountain 
after Dr. Irwine. I suspected that Osa had pneu- 
monia; and I knew that I had bronchitis. 

Two boys and John Wilshusen went but found 
the doctor away. However, John was equal to the 
emergency. He gathered all the porters he could 
scrape together—twelve I believe—armed them 
with pangas, and started up the mountain with the 
_ Willys-Knight big six. This trip of his will always to 


240 SAFARI 


me be one of the biggest things I have ever known. 
With the boys cutting, digging and pushing John 


reached us on the second night, with the top nearly _ 


off the car, boxes ripped off by the trees, front mud- 
guard badly dented and one canopy stanchion torn 
off, but with the car in good running order. John 
had had almost nothing to eat and was covered with 
grease and dirt. His porters were all in. 

During this time Osa and I were the most miserable — 
couple on earth. At nights Osa was out of her head 
and I thought she would die any time. John kept 
hot water bottles going and hot whiskey. The only 
medicine I had was aspirin, which was not what 
I needed. ice 

John arrived about nine o’clock at night. In the 
morning he and the boys made up a bed for Osa 
and me in the back of the car. We set off down the 
mountain on a wild trip. Before that we sent off 
boys in relays so we could pick them up at bad places 
to push. We also had ten boys riding on the sides of 
the car. We left posho and many other things 
behind. , abe 

The descent was awfully bumpy. We had to get 


out of the car about eight times at bad places. This : 


was the worst to us. If the reader has ever seen 
anyone with pneumonia he will know what it was 
like to have to take poor Osa out of the carat a time 
like this. But we had to do it because there were 


Atv A STATION ON THE Kenya AND Ucanpba Rattway. 


Myself, Osa, George Eastman, Daniel Pomeroy, and Dr. Audeley Stewart. 


st Junoure [[eus @ A[UO 


‘suOS¥es JOY}O JW ‘“paieaoo st yeod o1IqUe 94} SeMT}aUIOS pue 


‘ITHQANVN WOWd NAG sv VANAY 


A 


Yoien.t 


‘LIN Giddvs) 


-MONG 


kant 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 241 


places where we expected the car would turn over. 

We reached the Mission at dark. Dr. Irwine had 
been sent for and a grass house was fixed up with beds. 
Osa seemed a little better when we got into the house; 
but my fever was a hundred and four. The doctor 
said I had bronchitis on top of influenza. Osa had 
double pneumonia and in a short while was delirious. 
Dr. Irwine was frightened and sent John off to Meru 
a little after midnight, where he sent wires to Nairobi 
for another doctor. On getting word that Dr. Ander- 
son had set out, John returned. Dr. Irwine then 
said a nurse was necessary at once. So John set out 
again for Nairobi and did the hundred and sixty miles 
in five hours and twenty minutes. He was lucky 
in getting a nurse and returned in another five hours. 
The nurse says her hair turned gray on this trip. 

On arrival Dr. Anderson found another nurse was 
necessary and more medicine. John arrived with the 
first nurse and immediately turned around and 
rushed back to Nairobi for another. As he could not 
find a nurse in town he made a sixty mile trip out 
into the country and got her and was back with us 
early next morning. 

I was moved out of the hut into the Mission while 
both’ doctors and a nurse and the doctor’s wife 
worked over Osa all night. Before daylight Dr. 
Anderson came in and told me he was afraid Osa 
would not live. He asked for her mother’s address 


242 SAFARI 


so she could be wired as he thought he should prepare 
her. A runner was sent to Meru with the wire. 

I got out of bed without any one knowing it and 
slipped into the grass house, where the doctor and 
Dr. Irwine were applying ice cold towels to Osa’s 
body. It was the most heart-breaking sight I ever 
saw. Osa was unconscious. Her eyes were wide 
open, her Jips a ghastly blue and her breath was so 
fast that it was horrible. She would start coughing 
and gasp for breath. After each coughing spell 
she seemed to be dying. 

In the morning she slept a little and seemed much 
better. But that night the doctors were again afraid 
and told me to be prepared. She might die any 
minute. And the next night it was the same way. 
They would not allow me out of bed for I was very 
ill myself. But many times each night I slipped 
into the grass house before they could stop me, 
though Osa never knew me. 

When John arrived with the second nurse the 
doctors mentioned what a God-send ice would be. 
Whereupon good old John rushed again into Nairobi 
and got an ice machine and rushed back with it. 
Then he made ice as fast as he and the boys could. 
He had fixed up the machine so that it worked per- 
fectly, and was able to make ice in less than three 
minutes. 

John and the wonderful Willys-Knight absolutely 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 243 


saved Osa’s life and perhaps mine too. Fora week I 
never knew of John’s sleeping or eating. He never 
had time to wash up. The crisis came a few days 
later when Osa suddenly took a turn for the better 
and in the most remarkable way started to improve. 
By February 15th I was on the road to recovery 
though still weak asa cat. And I knew at last what 
it meant to be ilJ in the field. 

As I have said, I go into some detail in describing 
the complications of our illness because the traveller 
must be prepared for emergency. This especially 
applies to those who are not accustomed to a country. 
And it is for this very reason that I felt a definite 
responsibility whenever any of my friends came out 
from America to visit us. 

News of our most prominent visitors reached us by 
runner at Lake Paradise. He brought a telegram 
telling us that Mr. George Eastman, Mr. Daniel 
Pomeroy and Dr. Audeley Stewart were arriving 
in Nairobi intending to pay us a visit. We also got 
word that Carl Akeley and his wife with their group 
of painters and taxidermists had arrived in Nairobi. 

We hastily packed our ‘“‘chop”’ (food) box and set 
out to meet our friends. About one hundred miles 
from the Lake we camped at a water hole on the 
Kaisoot Desert and Jeft our motor cars to be picked 
up after we had made a week’s safari over the Ndoto 
Mountains. We hoped to find elephants there, but 


244 SAFARI 


were disappointed. While we were away we ran out 
of water and had to resort to a small mud puddle 
that was being used as a rhino and buffalo wallow. 
We drove the beasts away and had the boys bring 
enough of the mud into camp for distilling with the 
little still we always carried for the purpose. 

After a disappointing jaunt we returned to our — 
motors and worked on down to the Guaso Nyiro 
River. Finding it in flood we camped on the banks 
for three days. Then there appeared on the opposite 
bank a Boer convoy rider. He had ten wagons and 
nearly two hundred Abyssinian donkeys. He was on 
his way to one of the distant military posts with 
supplies. We knew we must go on or miss the 
Eastman party. So we made a deal with the Boer 
to send us aoross a long cable hitched to thirty-five 
donkeys. This cable we made fast to the motor cars 
and had them pulled across. The stream was so swift 
that all the machines were drifted downstream 
and badly buffeted on the other bank. One had two 
wheels broken off at its axle and the steering gear 
ruined. But after twenty-four hours of hard work — 
I found myself and Osa on the far side with all our 
belongings. It took several days more to put our 
cars back into running order again. 

The mud was so bad that on the first day we made 
only four miles and then became hopelessly bogged. 
I sent back for the Boer and made another deal with 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 245 


him whereby he was to stay with us until we were out 
of the worst going. After that for a week he towed 
our cars through the mud at intervals. One we had 
to abandon hopelessly bogged. 

Osa and I went on, sloshing through the mud for 
two hundred miles more to Nairobi, completing 
the worst safari I think we ever experienced. At 
Nairobi we had a reunion with Carl Akeley who had 
rented a big stone house on the outskirts of the town 
and was preparing for the arrival of the Eastman 
expedition. The latter came in on the following 
day and for the next week we were busy getting their 
things out of customs and preparing for our first 
safari with them. 

It was now raining every day. We had planned to 
take the newcomers directly back to Lake Paradise; 
but we knew it would be hopeless to attempt the trip 
at this time. This reminds me that I have heard 
the seasons in South Africa are changing somewhat. 
Certain it is that the rainy and dry seasons in Africa 
seem to have gotten mixed up. They don’t start any 
more where they should; and neither do they end on 
schedule. However, such conclusions should not be 
drawn hastily from only a few seasons’ observations. 

As the Kedong Valley, about thirty-five miles out 
of Nairobi, seemed to be dry, we took our friends 
down there for ten days. This valley is part of the 
great Rift Valley, which starts in Asia and zigzags 


246 SAFARI 


“ down through the entire continent of Africa from 
north to south. 2 
It was in the Kedong Valley just a few days before 
our visit that there was a terrible encounter with 
‘rhinos reported. I can do no better in describing — 
the tragedy than quote from the Nairobi paper of 
May 4, 1926, which read in part as follows: 


WHITE WOMAN CHARGED BY TWO RHINOS 


Mrs. Bailey, wife of Mr. G. L. Bailey, of “‘Stern- 
dale,’’” Naivasha, is an inmate of Nairobi European 
Hospital after being the victim of an experience 
which comes within the lives of few women. She 
owes the fact that she is still alive to some miracu- 
lous intervention or accident of which she is quite 
unaware. 3 

While hunting in Suswa, the mountain which rises 
above the great Rift Valley and is one of the breasts 
of the Queen of Sheba in the mythology and ancient 
history of Africa, she was charged by two rhinoceroses 
and very seriously injured. 

This is the thrilling story of her adventure. 

Mr. and Mrs. Bailey were on safari and had 
established their camp near Suswa for a week. On 
the night before the accident they had been sitting 
up for lions, and Mrs. Bailey caught a chill. On 
the following day she decided that she would not go 
far and she intended to spend an uneventful day 
hunting around the camp for reedbuck with a small 
rifle. Mr. Bailey departed with a gun-bearer to seek 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 247 


game on the plains and Mrs. Bailey, with another 
bearer and a second native, decided to climb Suswa. 
She found no sign of reedbuck and set out to return to 
camp. 

On the way home she discovered fresh tracks of 
rhino and suddenly came upon two ofthe animals 
lying down under a tree in more or less open ground. 
whe hurried to camp and brought her husband’s 
double .470 rifle and the natives back to the spot. 
When she arrived she found that the two animals 
had changed their position and were resting under a 
thick bush. 

Mrs. Bailey crept slowly forward until she was 
well within forty yards. The rhinos were in such a 
position that one was practically covering the out- 
line of its companion, and she supposed they were an 
old rhino and a full-grown youngster. The latter 
was nearest to her and she fired at the rhino on the 
farther side, choosing as a mark an exposed shoulder 
to get a heart shot. 

The next thing she knew was that they both rose to 
their feet and rushed through the bush at her, 
charging side by side. Mrs. Bailey’s one and only 
thought was that the end of her life had arrived, and 
she had no time to turn about or fire a second time. 

One of the animals caught her with its horn on her 
side; the horn travelled right up her body and tore 
away the whole of the scalp on that side. She was 
thrown high into the air among the trees, and when 
she came down the rhino trod upon her as she Jay on 
the ground. . 

Both native gun-bearers stood the strain well. 


248 : ) RARART 


They were experienced men, and they kept their 
ground. As soon as opportunity offered they lifted 
the injured woman up—her face streaming blood— 
and when she regained her feet, she discovered that 
one of the rhinos was rapidly returning. The natives 
dragged Mrs. Bailey into a dry water gully, and the 


gun-bearer drove the animal off with rifle fire. Then — 


they set out to-carry Mrs. Bailey four miles to camp 
and luckily met another party of the camp porters 
who had been in the same locality for the camp water 
supply. Among them they brought her down, quite 
unconscious, and one native hurried on ahead to 
inform Mr. Bailey who met the party bringing his 
injured wife about a mile from camp. 


On this trip Mr. Eastman used a shower bath of his 
own devising that deserves mention. It is rare that 
the explorer and traveller, no matter how he bathes, 
can have a real shower in the field. 

The device consisted of a regular collapsible auto- 
mobile canvas pail to the bottom of which was 
attached a hose fitting. From the fitting led a 
four-foot length of soft rubber tube, near the end of 
which was a clothespin to regulate the flow of water. 
Every evening after the day’s hunt Mr. Eastman’s 
tentboy, Abdulla, hung this pail on the front tent 
pole about head high, put the zinc bathtub under- 
neath and filled the bucket with warm water. The 


rest of the operation was left to the owner of the 


mechanism. 


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VISITORS AND ILLNESS 249 


To give an idea of the organization of a field party © 
of the sort we were now working with I list the 
following: 


Natives 


Philip Percival, white hunter, boy and gun- 
ESE ae ae ae 2 
Osa and Martin Johnson, two boys.......... 2 
Pomeroy, boy, gun-bearer and skinner....... 3 
meewarr, boy, eli-bearer................... 2 
‘'G. Eastman, boy, two gun-bearers and 
Ms a eee ee 4 
Chauffeur and helper (Boer)................ I 


Head man (this is the man who had one eye 
clawed out by a leopard in the Stewart 


Peweeard White party).........6..,.0.+. I 
Se ew ee Sec ae ee aes I 
ec ne ee ha wle sea eies 12 
CE re ee 2 

poves NATIVES! (oo 20 30 


Total Whites—7 (including chauffeur who is a 
Dutchman and eats by himself). 


Mr. Eastman is, of course, one of the industrial 
leaders of the world. Imagine our surprise when we 
discovered that he had not devoted all his talents to 
the perfection of the kodak. We found him an 
expert cook who could prepare for us on the camp 
stove coffee, biscuit, muffins, graham gems, corn 
bread, lemon tarts and huckleberry pie as good as 
we had ever eaten. Percival offered the millionaire 


250 SAFARI 


six hundred dollars a month and all the hunting in 
British East Africa if Mr. Eastman would henceforth 
direct the cuisine of his safaris. 

“Tl accept if Mrs. Johnson will join up with 
me,’ laughed the latter. But I demurred at this 
point, declaring that I could not afford to lose Osa, 
my own commissary officer. So the scheme fell 
through. | | 

On May 29th we left the Eastman party to go on to 
Lake Paradise and prepare for its arrival. We had 
been away for six weeks and wanted to be sure things 
were in order for our guests. We had a special house 
built for the occupancy of Mr. Eastman; and had the 
blacks put their own part of our little “village” in 
apple-pie order. 

As usual, there were some adventures for the new- 
comers which Osa and I did not have to stage. On 
June 6th we visited a place called Karo where the 
only water had to be dug out of the dry bed of a 
river. There I had a blind from which I hoped to 
give Mr. Eastman a look at some animals as we often 
saw them, undisturbed by any knowledge of the 
proximity of man. But we had no luck. | 

The next day I thought I’d try another spot. On 
the way there we came up with an old rhino grazing 
alone quite unconscious that we were in the neighbor- 
hood. Mr. Eastman nervily got within twenty yards 
of the beast, taking pictures as he went. But a 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 251 


moment later this approach proved a little too daring. 
The rhino suddenly looked up and charged without 
the usual preliminaries. Luckily Philip Percival and 
I were ready with our guns. At ten yards Phil let 
drive. The rhino fell about six yards from 
Mr. Eastman. 

The same night a lion got into our mules at camp. 
This was a little more nerve-racking than it sounds. 
For the mules were tethered right in the middle of 
the camp between our tents and the boys. Thelion 
somehow got his claw into the jaw of one of them 
and nearly did for it then and there. 

Luckily the boys waked up with a chorus of howls, 
at which the surprised lion beat a hasty retreat. 
The wretched mule broke away in its agony but 
turned up next day still alive; how it escaped being 
eaten during the night I cannot say. Its jaws were 
terribly swollen and lacerated. But it got well 
eventually. The next night a leopard got into camp 
but did no damage. 

By this time our visitors began really to feel they 
were in ‘‘ Darkest Africa.”’ 

After about two weeks we all got underway for the 
south again. Near Lesamis Osa and Mr. Eastman 
devoted some time to one of their favorite sports, 
that of shooting sand grouse for our camp table. At 
the waterhole here the birds could be got both night 
and morning, hundreds of them coming down to 


252 SAFARI 


drink at sunrise and sunset, as regular as clockwork. 

A pause was made here for a camel safari of 28 
camels. These could carry food and equipment for 
ten days for the big party which we now made, and 
water for four days. Since we now had 61 natives 
and 7 whites this was doing very well. Water was the 
troublesome item. ‘That at Lesamis was dirty; and 
we had only 14 gallons left from the supply we took 
on at the Lake. 

When the time came to pack and go, the camels, 
who are never on their good behavior—if they 
have any—acted a little worse than usual. Four 
or five kicked off their loads and disturbed the whole 
caravan. It was nearly four in the afternoon before 
we finally got underway. 

Game proved fairly scarce on the journey. Aas 
the weather got hotter and hotter, the temperature © 
going up to well above 90°F. in the middle of the day. 
Elephant were seen but no decent pictures secured, 
much to the disappointment of the newcomers. On 
July 3 we gave up the search for game and struck out 
for our base camp at Merille where our cars were 
waiting to take us down to Nairobi. Thence the 
Eastman-Pomeroy party made a trip down to the 
southwest after lions, some of the adventures of 
which we shared and which I will presently describe. 
It was these adventures which made the high point of 
our four years. | 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 253 


Another bit of visiting came with Sister Withall, 
the trained nurse that accompanied us while Osa 
was convalescing after her pneumonia. She and Osa 
struck up a great friendship. We finally asked her 
to go out on a short safari with us. She had nursed 
all over the world, Australia, New Zealand and 
south America. She was among the first six nurses 
to go out from England to Belgium when the war broke 
out; and she was one of the last to leave when the 
Armistice was signed. She married in Mombasa after 
demobilization, her husband dying six months later. 

At the time the doctor said he thought it was unwise 
for us to take a hard trip on account of our condition. 
He approved of my suggestion that we try a safari out 
on the Kaisoot Desert for a time. John Wilshusen, 
who had saved our lives in the Willys-Knights, was 
available and willing to go with us. So he brought 
the cars down to Chogoria Mission station and 
helped make a bed in one so Osa could travel. 

We promptly headed toward the desert and were 
soon out of sight of the little station that had shel- 
tered us through our miserable siege. Not three 
miles away we ran into a pig hole. While we were 
getting the car out Osa discovered two rhino slowly 
walking towards us. At once I left the car with 
my camera and unlimbered for some pictures. It 
was not until the animals were within forty feet of 
us that they discovered our presence. For a moment 


254 SAFARI 


I thought we were in for a charge. The rhinos 
pawed the earth, snorted, looked undecided, then 
turned and ran. 

When I looked around therel was Sister Withall 
and Osa. They had moved the car slowly up, 
stopped and climbed atop it to watch the fun. This — 
was Osa’s first outing from being bedridden since she 
had been taken ill on the mountain. 

A few days later we reached a waterhole that had 
proved promising in the past. In the afternoon we 
set up the cameras and were about to begin a wait 
for game when down the trail trotted a big bull rhino 
that came to within fifty feet before he saw us. 
He stopped, gave a snort and galloped our way with 
his head down. Fifteen feet from the camera he 
whirled and ran around a tree. Osa, still a little 
wobbly, but ready with her gun, watched him closely. 
Sister Withall was palpably worried. | 

After circling the tree the rhino apparently decided 
we were just an hallucination and decided to come 
on down again. This time he dashed along at full 
speed and showed every sign of charging right 
through us all. To save our lives Osa fired at 
twelve feet and brought him down with this cae ; 
round from her .405 Winchester. 

After the incident Osa returned to camp and went 
to bed. The excitement had been too much for her 
convalescent state. 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 255 


The following morning we built a blind for flash- 
lights. Lions were roaring all about us all night 
and it looked as if we might get something good, 
though we were supposed to be on vacation. Again 
in the afternoon we all wandered out to the waterhole 
to see if it were being used. Hanged if we didn’t 
have the same experience as we had had the day 
before. Just as we got set a rhino came charging 
down upon us and didn’t stop for men, women, 
camera or anything else until Osa was forced to fire 
at a distance of about fifteen feet, bringing the 
lunatic down at the very last moment. This time 
she went back to bed again for two days. Sister 
Withall exclaimed: ‘‘One more rhino charge and 
she'll be on her back for good.” 

I forgot to mention that Osa now had a new 
maid. This one’s name was the usual unpronounceable 
kind. She had been brought to our place under 
peculiar circumstances. Quite some time before, a 
Boran had presented himself at my laboratory 
door with my gun-bearer, saying that he had a cow 
and calf for sale; that he was on his way down country 
and the calf had just been born. He wanted to sell 
the cow and the calf to me. I learned that the 
price was seventy shillings; as this figure was a fair 
one I made the purchase. — 

When the transaction was over, one of my porters 
stepped up and suggested that, as he had saved 


256 SAFARI 


quite a sum of money, he would like to buy the 
Boran’s daughter. I had long ago learned that one 
has to be careful with the native women coming 
intocamp. Wenever allowed more than two or three 
around at a time. If we got the wrong kind we 
always had trouble, for with so many boys around 
one wild black lady could almost break up our 
organization. The girl was now brought in. And 
as she didn’t look like a trouble-maker I gave my man 
permission to buy her. I even furnished him the 
sixty shillings to pay the bill, as I owed him more 
than that. 


The interesting thing was that the Boran should 


sell his cow for seventy shillings and his daughter for 
only sixty. The porter was very good to the girl; 
and a short while later we took her away from his 
menage and attached her to Osa as personal maid. 
In the end she became a devoted and efficient servant. 


After Osa got thoroughly on her feet again she ~ 


became restless. She came to me one morning and 
asked if she might break the set rule of Lake Paradise 


namely, that not one shot should be fired in the 


Lake district. She wanted to get a Greater Kudu, 
the true aristocrat of the African forest and one of 
the most wary game animals on the list. 


At first I thought I should refuse. I couldn’t 


get away to go with her and knew that she must face 
the dangers of the forest alone except for her helpers. 


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VISITORS AND ILLNESS 257 


But finally I gave in and her chop boxes were packed 
within an hour. 

In the following days she wandered alJl over the 
highest peaks in the Lake Paradise region. The 
Kudu is found mostly near the tops of mountains. 
From what the boys said afterward Osa led them on a 
safari that even I would not have tackled. On the 
second day she sighted a beautiful specimen. For 
six days and nights thereafter she tenaciously followed 
it without ever getting within rifle shot. On the after- 
noon of the sixth day she managed to get within three 
hundred yards of the Kudu. She dropped to her 
knees, took careful aim and brought him down dead 
at the first shot. At this moment a giant cobra 
rose up directly in front of her and nearly scared her 
to death. 

she was half the night getting back to her camp, 
running into two herds of elephants on the way. 
I was in my laboratory when she came in the follow- 
ing day. She entered with a woebegone expression 
that told me she had failed. I began to sympathize, 
being only too glad that she had come back safely. 
I followed her into the next room and there, to my 
astonishment, saw propped up on logs one of the 
finest of the rare kudu heads I had ever set eyes on. 

Two days later natives came in to tell us of a 
wounded buffalo, probably an animal that had been 
speared and got away. The natives said this same 


258 SAFARI 


buffalo had killed an old woman and a young Boran 
boy, and had badly wounded another native that had 
been out herding sheep. I did not have time to go 
out after the animal. I knew it ought to be killed, 
for there is probably no more dangerous animal than 
the buffalo in such a state. Nor did I want Osa to go 
after it. 

But the Boran said that the beast could be found 
in the crater of an old extinct volcano, where we 
could sit atop a rock and shoot it as it walked out. 
Osa had never been after buffalo. And when she 
heard that there might be some excitement she was 
allfor going. Finally she dispelled my apprehensions 
and set off with the same boys she had taken on her 
Kudu hunt. . 

She spent three days in the chase. She saw the 
buffalo every day at the bottom of the old extinct 
crater over on the edge of the Kaisoot Desert where it 
seemed to live. But she couldn’t get at it on account 
of the heavy brush thereabouts. | 

Finally on the fourth day she got a bunch of 
Borans camped nearby to take their half-wild dogs 
and form a drive through the bush in order to drive 
the buffalo towards her. The drive was successful 
in short order. The buffalo came charging down 
upon the rock where Osa was perched. She jumped 
off and ran directly in the path of the furious animal. 
At ten feet she let him have a bullet from her 405. 


VISITORS AND ILLNESS 259 


Probably she has never made a more dangerous shot 
in her whole African life. Had the bullet not hit 
just right it would have ricochetted and done no harm. 
Further, had the animal not been so close I doubt if 
the bullet would have penetrated, for the point she 
hit was tougher than bone itself. 

When we finally returned from Lake Paradise 
with the Eastman-Pomeroy party to Nairobi we found 
waiting for us John Wilshusen and three new Willys- 
Knight cars, one a big six and two one-ton trucks. 
These cars were what we considered the very best for 
the fearfully rough usage we had to put them to. 

On the day they were ready we all prepared for 
our trip down to Tanganyika for lions, the Eastman 
party going on ahead of us. We were filled with 
anticipation at the prospect of this safari, but little did 
we realize what tremendous things were in store 
for us in the next few weeks. 

Best of all, I think, Carl Akeley was to be along 
and share with us his wonderful store of African 
knowledge. 


CHAPTER XIV 
TANGANYIKA LIONS 


‘““' THE lion is a sportsman and a gentleman. He 

attends to his own business and will leave you 
alone so long as you leave him alone. Man slaugh- 
ters him in cold blood because the lion was created 
and ordained to live on flesh. Yet man kills nearly 
every animal to eat.” 

So did Carl Akeley speak to me one dark African 
night on safari not long before he died and was 
buried in the hills and jungle that he loved so well. 

The lion is a cat. You must never forget that. 
But if you are a person who has never seen a live 
lion in his own haunts, a lion unaggravated by the 
ruthlessness of man, you will know him only through 
the catch-phrase, the twisted legend and the humili- 
ating still-picture of him as he lies helpless in death. 
You will think of the lion as a cruel, treacherous, 
bloodthirsty beast of prey. You will imagine him 
slinking through the underbrush toward his victim. 
You will picture him crunching flesh or roaring, a 
ruthless enemy of all other animal life. 


It was now in our third year when we went south 
260 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 261 


to Tanganyika that we had what we now term our 
“Great Lion Adventure.’ Probably in our hearts 
we, too, thought of lions as cruel prowlers of the 
jungle. Nightly we heard them roar about our camps 
between the waterholes. Time after time we came 
on gruesome evidence of their handiwork in dead 
half-eaten giraffes and zebras. Fleeting glimpse 
of their tawny bodies in grassy dongas often made us 
grip our rifles tighter. 

Several times we had a taste of the lion’s ferocity 
when disturbed. 

One time, Osa, my wife, and I were out on the sun- 
baked veldt travelling with our native gun-bearers 
and with porters carrying our motion picture cameras. 
We were not particularly Jooking for lions, although 
we knew we were in lion country. 

We had passed countless tracks of game, criss- 
crossing over our route; but there was a curious 
absence of actual animal life which was significant. 

I suddenly began to pick up bits of low con- 
versation from the natives with us. They were 
speaking of the dreaded simba (which is the native 
word for lion). Just then, as if fate chose to endorse 
their apprehensions, there appeared right ahead of 
us on the rough floor of the desert the brownish 
shape of a huge crouching lion. 

The lion’s tail was switching about like a flag in 
the hands of a railway guard—his warning signal. 


262 SAFARI 


This left no doubt in our minds about his mood. 
He was angry at our intrusion. He may have been 
stalking his prey; he may have been asleep; he may 
have been courting when we chanced by. It made 
no difference. He was thoroughly enraged that our 
party had blundered upon his activities and dared 
still to come his way. 

I knew enough about lions not to goon. Quickly 
I had the big camera set up and Osa got hers out of 
its case. The gun-bearers took their stations a little 
behind and on both sides of us to be ready in case of 
trouble. 

Scarcely had I started to crank when the beast 
began his advance. His tail was flipping violently 
from side to side; now and then he gave vent to a 
harsh growl of anger. 

He didn’t charge all at once. He would advance 
a few yards, then lie down in a tense crouching 
position. He seemed to be working himself up into 
an uncontrollable rage. Six times he repeated this 
performance while I recorded his movements by 
film. 

Finally he could no longer control his desire to 
annihilate us. He was just a hundred yards away 
and right out in plain sight in broad daylight when 
he rose and charged. 

I can’t say I enjoyed standing there turning my 
crank during that rush. It was the most beautiful, 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 263 


and at the same time the most terrifying sight I 
think I have ever seen. He looked almost as big asa 
full grown bull as he came tearing down upon us, his 
mane flying and his dripping teeth bared for the 
final death-dealing assault. The black boys were 
ready to collapse when Osa fired. The huge body 
checked for a split-second in mid-air, then fell and 
rolled to a point just thirteen feet from my camera’s 
tripod. 

Once more there was impressed upon my mind how 
surely was the lion but a gigantic murdering cat, far 
better dead than alive. 

It is only fair to add, however, that even at this 
time I was not afraid of being eaten by a lion. The 
belief that a lion is a man-eater is generally incorrect. 
Lions enjoy zebra and giraffe meat best of all; human 
flesh does not usually appeal to them. In my six 
years’ residence in Africa in lion country I have never 
been able personally to trace an authentic case of a 
man-eating lion. Often I have heard of them; 
but, when I run the facts to earth they always turn 
out to be nothing more than wild rumor. 

It was Phil Percival who persuaded us to go far 
south into Tanganyika Territory for our best lion 
adventures. This section of Africa is on the lower 
eastern border, well south of Nairobi. It is well 
protected by natural obstacles, since it is a rough and 
nearly waterless country. Its isolation is, I think, 


264 SAFARI 


the chief reason that it is probably one of the most 
wonderful game tracts in the world. 

Not long after we entered it we fell in with forty 
naked Lumbwa warriors in war paint also out after 
lions. With them we had another chance to see the 
big cats “at their worst.’’ The native hunters were 
armed with long spears and small elliptical shields 
covered only with buffalo hide. Each man had his 
own idea of war paint both on himself and onhisshield. — 

When we came up the blacks were in a state of 
great excitement. For days they had been working 
themselves into a fever of courage and exhilaration in 
order to nerve themselves for facing simba in his own 
haunts. I must say I admired their boldness in 
deliberately planning to fight lions with weapons as 
fragile as theirs and with no sort of defense against 
the animals’ poisonous claws save their hide shields. 

The purpose of the hunt was not for trophies or for 
meat. The native does not eat lion flesh; nor has he 
any use for the skin save that he uses its claws in his 
amulets. The whole movement was a defensive one; 
a sortie against lions that had been attacking and 
carrying off the black man’s precious cattle. 

We paused to watch some of the killings. We 
saw six in all. It was a thrilling nerve-racking 
performance. f | 

First the natives ranged out in a line of advance 
scouts. When a lion was located in the grass or brush 


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TANGANYIKA LIONS 265 


the scouts retreated until joined by their brothers. 
A sort of rough semicircular formation was then 
taken and the advance began. 

Meanwhile the lion usually behaved somewhat 
as the big fellow did who charged Osa and me. He 
lashed himself into a fury at the intrusion of man 
and prepared to fight any who dared approach 
him. Only twice did I actually see one run away; 
and that was when he was pressed hard from all sides 
and many times outnumbered. Even then he did 
not give the impression of running away. He simply 
changed his course and disappeared at a powerful trot 
which gave the impression that he had important 
business elsewhere. 

Occasionally the lion would make off as if he had 
decided that his duties were not as important as 
those of the strange two-legged beasts who had 
suddenly cropped up on all sides. But when he 
discovered that it was himself whom they pursued 
he did not hesitate to turn and engage the enemy 
with spirit. 

At the first sign of the lion’s determination to 
charge, the warriors paused. This was the dramatic 
high point of the scene; the crouched lion with lashing 
tail ready to charge on the slightest provocation; 
the tense and naked black men with glistening 
spears raised in the sunshine and trembling in their 
almost unbearable suspense. 


266 | | SAFARI 


Then a superb plunging rush by the King of Beasts. 
The black line held. What magnificent courage it 
takes to stand unarmed, save for a slender little 
spear before a charging lion, only one who has stood 
with chilling blood and watched it can ever realize. 

With a last mad roar the lion sprang. Simulta- 
neously a salvo of spears shot from a score of hands. 
Taking the tearing claws on their shields the nearest 
blacks crouched low. Others rose full height and 
added their shafts to those already buried deep in the 
flesh of the quivering torso. 

A brief dusty mélée, the dying lion and sweating 
blacks miraculously intermingled; then the long 
drawn cry of triumph from the warriors. 

More than once I saw the lion maul the spearsmen 
in these fracases. More than once it was clear to me 
that the lion was fighting with his back to the wall, 
at bay, knowing the odds were against him; yet he 
fought on, and died fighting. 

It was with these impressions behind me that I 
entered Tanganyika, combining my party with 
Carl Akeley’s. We camped on the edge of the great 
plain that sloped gently upward to the mountains. 
We knew we were going to get lions. Nightly they 
roared about us. But as yet we had encountered 
none of the herds that we had come so far to see. 

Next day Phil Percival came in with a wide grin 
on his face that meant success. Quickly he told us 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 267 


what he had found on his reconnoissance. ‘‘ Not 
lions,’’ he said first, for he knew how eager we were. 
“But plenty of other kinds of animals.” He had 
struck the vanguard of a big game migration at a 
point not many miles away. Luckily the movement 
seemed to be in our direction. 

Next morning we broke camp early. Our own 
excitement communicated itself to the natives. 
Rarely had they packed so quickly before. We 
worked our way down through the most beautiful 
country I have ever seen: wide stretches of plains, 
broken here and there by grotesque rock formations 
that suggested a lunar Jandscape. The chief vege- 
tation consisted of little forests of thick thorn growth. 
Otherwise there was cover neither for us nor for any 
other animal. 

Then we struck game. It was a sight that made 
us hold our breath. Miles and miles of the wilde- 
beest in herds that must have numbered into the tens 
of thousands; Thompson’s gazelle more numerous 
than I had ever seen them before; hundreds of 
Grant’s gazelle; giraffe—sixty-one in a single herd; 
wart hogs, topi and kongoni; ostriches; innumerable 
zebras, with an outer fringe of hyenas and jackals 
numbering hundreds. There were many vultures 
too, circling high overhead on tireless wings. 

It was a hunter’s paradise. Game birds were 
plentiful. The boys caught catfish running as high 


268 SAFARI 


as fifteen pounds, from pools along the river-bed we 
skirted. : 

But still no lions; I mean lions such as Carl Akeley 
and I had been hoping for; lions that could be studied 
and photographed while they were unmolested. 
Carl had for months been promising me I would 
change my mind about the big cats if only I could 
once see them his way. But I confess my previous 
encounters had made me more and more skeptical. 

A few days after our arrival in the game district 
Carl came into camp late in the evening. He had 
been away all day on a scouting party of his own. 
I could see he was laboring under some excitement. 
Almost immediately he took me aside. 

_“T’ve found them!” he exclaimed. 

Instantly I knew what he meant. Lions! 

‘Now you'll believe what I say!” 

Never had I heard him speak more earnestly. 
Indeed I was for starting at once although I knew it 
was absolutely out of the question to dare travel 
in the darkness away from the protection of our 
camp fire. 

I could scarcely sleep that night. Years before in 
New York, Carl Akeley had sat in my apartment 
playing with Kalowatt and talking lions. In his 
studio in the American Museum I had sat and 
watched him modelling them. Wherever we were 
or whatever we discussed he sooner or later prayed 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 269 


that I might some day see with my own eyes what 
lions really were. 

We turned out next morning with the stars still lit: 
velvet night except where a little of the dawn slipped 
up over the eastern horizon. We carried guns; 
but at Carl’s behest we agreed not to shoot unless 
absolutely necessary. 

“‘T don’t believe this herd has ever been dis- 
turbed,” he again declared. But still I doubted. 

For hours we moved across the dry and rocky 
plain. A blazing tropical sun rolled over the edge 
of the world and struck us heavily with its rays. 
Dust sifted up from underfoot and bit like acid into 
our panting nostrils. We were drenched with 
sweat. 

In mid-morning we followed Carl up a slight rise 
and entered a shallow depression between two hills. 
Suddenly he paused. 

“Here it is,” he said and pointed ahead. 

At that very instant I saw a brownish shadow 
disappear into the grass that fronted a small donga 
or ravine on our right. 

We proceeded. Soon we saw another lion. He 
seemed to be passing on a course opposite to ours. 
He did not even look our way. Did he fail to see us? 
Or was Carl’s wonderful promise coming true? 

Then abruptly and without the slightest warning 
we came upon eleven full-grown lions. I gasped. All 


270 SAFARI 


of us stopped in our tracks. We had never dreamed 
of any sight like this. 

Some of the lions were squatting on their haunches; 
some were crouching; others sitting or lying. Two 
were taking the air from the top of a five foot ant 
hill. One was lazily yawning under a big mimosa 
tree. All looked our way as we came up; but none 
showed any more concern than might a Sunday crowd 
in a Central Park exhibit if two or three more psa 
_ drifted up to enjoy the sunshine. 

I suppose Carl’s heart was beating like mine as we 
moved slowly forward. We stopped every few feet 
and made photographs. For we were still not sure 
how long the beasts would tolerate our presence. 

We were about a hundred yards from the lions 
when we first sighted them. All were out in a little 
clearing with only some short grass in sparse patches 
between us and them. When I set up my Akeley 
camera and started to grind out film the slight noise 
of the mechanism caused the animals to prick up 
their ears. But a moment later all looked away as if 
to prove we meant nothing in their lives. 

Up to this point we had spoken only in whispers. 
In my excitement I forgot and spoke aloud. In- 
stantly every lion faced us. Several rose to their feet 

with their tails lashing. But after a few low growls 
of annoyance they quieted down and again began 
looking in every direction but ours. 


ee a a ae 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 271 


Presently they commenced to go to sleep. It wasa 
hot sultry day and their hunting the night before 
must have made them drowsy. The four directly 
in front of us lay on their sides. After they had 
completely lost consciousness they began to roll over 
with their yellow bellies uppermost, breathing 
heavily. The one nearest us snored in a low rhythmi- 
cal undertone. 

I had to pinch myself to believe that these were the 
same species I had seen only as fighting snarling 
maniacs, crouched with lashing tail or ready on the 
instant to make a murderous charge. 

As the minutes sped by and the lions took less and 
less notice of us, my heart gradually ceased pounding 
like a trip hammer. Every now and then Carl would 
look up at me and bare his teeth in an “I told you 
so’’ grin. 

We moved forward a few feet at a time. As we 
continued to shorten the distance between us and the 
lions, a few of them who were still awake raised 
their heads; or rather turned them from side to side, 
because their heads were upside down due to the 
animals being flat on their backs. But their glances 
were lazy, blinking looks containing not an atom 
of hostility. Finally every lion was asleep—eleven 
full-grown beauties. 

We were wondering what to do next when out of 
the nearest donga came another lion that apparently 


272 SAFARI 


did not feel as sleepy as his friends. He stood there - 


for a few moments glancing at them slyly. Then he 
walked up to a big male that was sound asleep and 


snapped at one of the paws waving in the air. Witha a 


roar of surprise and anger the owner of the paw 
sprang to his feet ready for anything. But when he 
saw he had been tricked he yawned widely and 


rambled grumbling away to lie down again and : | | : : 


complete his nap. 


The joker walked on among the other ten lions, ¥ a 


waking up one after another until the little glade 
rang with growls and snarls of irritation. He paid 
no attention to us even when he got among the four 
right in front of where we stood. Finally he lay 
down beside a sleeping lioness and began to torment 
her. The poor lady wanted to sleep but he kept 
right on mauling and mouthing her until she simply 


had to sit up and maul back. After a few minutes 3 
of this both quieted down and began affectionately . 


licking one another. 


About this time the biggest tea of the bunch, who s ; 
had been sleeping with his legs in the air, got slowlyto  — 


his feet and stretched, yawning a yawn so large that 
we all wanted to yawn too. He walked over to 


another spot and flopped himself on the ground 


so hard that he gave a loud grunt as if he had lock : 
the wind out of himself. 


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TANGANYIKA LIONS 273 


mous indifference of the lions we backed off and found 
a big mimosa tree some distance away where, shel- 
tered from the heat of the high blazing sun, we sat 
and lunched. For four long happy hours we lay 
about and talked lions. I had never seen Carl 
Akeley so elated. He was overjoyed to think he had 
at least proved to me lions will not molest a man if not 
molested first. Little did I think it was the last long 
talk I should ever have with this great man. 

“This valley has probably never been shot over,”’ 
he said. ‘‘Notice how sleek and well-fed these 
fellows are. Probably they hunt in packs and have 
no trouble in getting all the food they want.’ He 
paused for a moment of reflection. Then he added: 
‘“They have never been whipped; no wonder they’re 
afraid of nothing on earth.”’ 

I was out next morning at daybreak with fresh 
film and porters ready to visit our Lion Valley again. 
But Mrs. Akeley reported that her husband had a 
high fever and could not go. On entering his tent I 
could see he was a very sick man. He seemed to have 
a presentiment he would never get well. He didn’t. 

He said: ‘‘Go ahead, Martin, and play the game 
with the lions and they will play the game with you. 
Get all the data and the pictures you can; then tell 
the world about it. J want the world to know how 
unfair it is for sportsmen to slaughter large numbers 
of lions simply to get a big pot.” 


274 SAFARI 


Carl’s illness gave Osa her chance to go with me. 
She had been nearly frantic with curiosity after 
hearing our story of the lions who didn’t mind men. 
She dressed quickly and we set off at top speed 
along the trail to our Garden of Eden. 

At first we came on only single animals and pairs. 
But about nine o’clock we suddenly found fourteen 
scattered about near the spot where we had seen the 
group the day before. I turned and watched Osa’s 
face. It was worth coming all the way down to 
Tanganyika to see it light up. She held her breath at 
first; and her voice shook with emotion when she 
exclaimed: ‘I never dreamed I should see anything 
so beautiful in this world!” 

Cameras were made ready as before, and porters 
sent back so we should not seem too big a body to the 
animals. Slowly we moved toward the lions who 
watched us curiously. 

This time they were more restless and alert; 
perhaps because the day was cooler. Asa result the 
situation was so dangerous that it needed but a few 
bounds from the nearest of the powerful cats to finish 
us off. Of course we had two guns; but as I was busy 
with the cameras, Osa held the only rifle that was 
ready. 


After we got so close we could not make decent 


pictures by reducing the distance we began to use 
different cameras and lens combinations to be sure 


ee a ee Se 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 275 


we had recorded all the times of this unprecedented 
scene. 

The lions kept moving around too. Once two 
stood on their hind legs and wrapped their fore feet 
around one another as they pretended to fight. They 
roared and swayed with a most terrifying reality as 
they went through the mock combat. One walked to 
a tree where, standing on his hind feet, he sharpened 
his claws on the trunk. One picked up a small stone 
in its fore paws, and tossing it into the air, played 
with it as a kitten will play with a ball of yarn. 
Several were busy taking their morning baths by 
licking their fur exactly as a cat would do. One 
seemed to have a thorn or chigger in his toe. He 
spent half an hour trying to get it out. I thought of 
the fable of the man who took the thorn from the 
lion’s paw and of the way he was repaid by the lion. 
But I did not have the nerve to try it. 

After an hour of this sort of thing, Osa suddenly 
nudged me and motioned violently behind us. I 
turned to find that three more lions had come up 
along our line of retreat and were standing but a few 
feet away quietly watching the photographing of their 
friends. They lay down as we looked at them and 
several of the others began to skit around to where 
they were. 

In three minutes we were completely surrounded 
by lions. 


276 SAFARI 


About eleven o’clock the animals began drifting 
down to a nearby donga for their noonday siesta out 
of the sun. Soon we were left alone, safe and 
unharmed. 

We returned to the shade of the big mimosa tree 
where our porters were waiting. The natives treated 
us almost as if we were gods. They had seen us 
surrounded by lions and could not understand for 
the life of them why we were not attacked. 

After lunch and a short nap Osa went out and shot i 
a zebra. We hoped we could get the lions to focus 
more in one spot and give us even better pictures than 
we had taken, so the boys dragged the zebra to a 
point close to where we had last seen the lions. 
Then we sent them back out of the way while Osa 
and I moved up close to the carcass with the cameras. 

About five in the evening an old grandmother 
lioness came out and sniffed at the dead zebra. 
But apparently she was not hungry, for after inspect- 
ing it well with her nose she lay down beside it and 
went fast asleep. I never knew lions were such 
sleepy animals. 

Now a young lion came up and the lioness left. 
He rubbed against the zebra and purred; then he lay 
down beside it until the lioness returned. This time 
she decided she wanted to be left alone. She 
lashed her tail and growled, telling the young fellow, 
who was probably her son, to get away, which he 


TANGANYIKA LIONS 277 


promptly did. But she in turn was soon ousted 
by a big lion which I took to be her husband. 

It was getting late and we were ready to go home 
when another big lioness came along. She soon 
showed she was in no mood for social amenities. 
she sighted us at a distance of about a hundred yards 
and at once came bounding toward us. We re- 
treated quickly to show her we didn’t want to inter- 
_fere. The minute we moved she stopped and lashed 
her tail angrily. Then she came on again. Once 
more we retired and she followed. 

Of course we could have shot her. We had our 
rifles all ready in case she made it necessary for us 
to resort to them. But we did not wish to shoot 
and spoil the wonderful adventure of Lion Valley. 

Finally she seemed to realize that we were deter- 
minéd to get out of the way if she would only give 
us the chance. I think the trouble was simply that 
she had seen us hanging about her diggings all day 
and was tired of our presence. Four times we 
stopped and four times she came at us, then lay with 
lashing tail and watched us while we ran. Mean- 
while in the distance we could see other lions who had 
left the chasing entirely to the lioness. I will say 
she made a good job of it, as we didn’t have the nerve 
to go back. 

We paid a number of other visits to the place; and 
we studied lions at close range to our heart’s content, 


278 NG SAFARI 


filming them until bankruptcy threat 
loid supply. Never was there a 
lion were we compelled to kill. 

So it was that I became a convert. 
creed: ‘‘The lion is a sportsman ¢ 


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CHAPTER XV 
THE END OF THE TRAIL 


UR four years were drawing to a close. On our 

last Christmas at the Lake Osa lighted her 

little Christmas tree and the candles seemed to shoot 

their beams out over the desert from the roof of the 

world. For the boys we had a barbecue of roast 

ox, and doled out khaki cloth and cigarettes after 
dinner. 

For ourselves Osa and Phishie prepared a great 
feast. We had sardines for hors d’euvres, a soup 
from tomatoes in the garden, ‘‘'Tommy” (Thomp- 
son’s gazelle) steaks, roast spurfowl, string beans, | 
alligator pears, apricots, black cranberry sauce, 
olives, raisin biscuit—Osa’s specialty—sweet pota- 
toes, native coffee, floating island pudding, of which 
we never grew tired, pecans and Nairobi cigars. 

After dinner we watched the boys dance and chant, 
while the flames lighted up the lake and the vine-clad 
cliffs, their orange red lances piercing the aisles of the 
forest far beyond the boma. We felt a little happier, 
I think, for not having neglected Christmas. 

Other people had by now found the way to this 

279 


280 SAFARI 


sequestered lake, which we had been the first to dis- 
-cover after the missionary who came here two 
hundred years ago. And ‘several were still to come. 
Some came by the wilder route, like Pat Ayre, the 
famous hunter; others, like our good friends Colonel 
and Mrs. Bray, who had voyaged from America 
all the way to see Africa and us, by the new trail 
Boculy had found and which was easier for camels 
or cars. 

It was pleasant to have the Brays. The Colonel 
was a delightful reconteur, and his negro stories, tales 
of old Kentucky and of the Keith circuit, of which he 
for a long time had been manager, sounded queerly in 
the wilds but were a delightful change after so many 
yarns in Swahili. 

Osa, too, had fixed up her living quarters and guest 
house admirably. In the guest room were towel racks 
and all the little knicknacks which a woman will 
put up, if you give her twenty-four hours in a place; 
and they served the purpose, even though they were | 
made of materials gathered out of the forest. And 


woe betide the luckless houseboys if they did not — 


have sheets and towels, as well as our garments, 
freshly laundered every day or two. 

The living room was now as comfortable as that 
of any country home. ‘There were guns and horns 
on the wall; skins on the floor; lounging chairs, most 
of which I had made; bright rugs; and always a fire in 


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THREE Ovt or FIFTEEN. 


This pictureis actually only a detail of the extraordinary scene we saw here. There 
were fifteen lions lying about in groups such as this when Carl Akeley and I came upon 
them. For two wonderful days we had the time of our lives. Then Carl got sick and 
Osa and I went on with the photographing work alone. 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 281 


the cool of the evening. A fire, too, without soot or 
much smoke, because the only wood in the forest was 
hard and gave out a most comforting warmth and 
color—yellow, often turning to driftwood blue. 
Seated there in the evenings, it almost seemed as if 
that civilization which we had tried to escape had 
caught up with us again. 

I think the Brays had a good time during the two 
weeks they were with us. Certainly they had a 
glimpse of kaleidoscopic African life. They got 
mixed up in a rhino charge; a large herd of ele- 
phants raided our garden while they were guests; 
and it was during their visit that the incident I 
have already related occurred, when one of our 
boys had a fit, jumped into a big campfire, and 
was burned so badly that he had lockjaw and died. 
‘Unfortunately Mr. Bray fell into a hole early in his 
visit and sprained his ankle so badly that he had to 
be sent to Nairobi for medical attendance. On the 
day of his return my head man came to me and in- 
formed me that one of my boys, a Boran herder, 
seemingly in perfect health had walked off into the 
forest in the middle of the afternoon when he should 
have been at work. He was found the next morning 
dead, with no marks of violence on his body. To 
this day we haven’t the slightest idea how he died. 

Two particularly distressing incidents happened 
in our last year that really have no place in a tale of 


282 SAFARI 


Africa; but both of which belong in a tale of the ups 
and downs of our strange and varied life. 

The first one was an accident to myself. Every 
day we had been hearing elephants trumpeting across 
the lake, breaking down trees as they fed, and yet had 
not been able to get a good flashlight picture of the 
herd. So I decided to set up my apparatus across 
the lake. Usually I had two flash cartridges but 
this time, wanting a big picture, I used sixteen in 
nests of two each. 

Now we were always very careful about stepping 
on the near side of the wire. The scent of animals 
is so powerful as to seem uncanny; for hours after 
you have set foot near a spot they will catch your 
scent. This is particularly true of the forest where 
there is no sun to destroy the smell. But careful as 
we were, this time some one blundered. I must 
have touched the spring, for there was a great roar 
and a light like that which greeted Saul on the road 
to Damascus, then all was blackness. And every- 
where I went, blinded and groping, there was a singe 
of burning flesh in the air—my own. And, remem- 
bering the boy who had just died, I was more fright- 
ened than ever I had been when facing wild animals. 
After a while the boys who had been scared away by 
the great boom returned to my side, helped me to my 
feet and half led, half carried me, back to camp. 
Osa was out on the trail and there was not a living 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 283 


soul to give me any more skilled medical help than a 
drink of water, and this I could not swallow, so 
swollen were my lips. I really thought I could feel 
pieces of the flesh coming off from my body as I 
groaned on the blankets. 

I began to picture the lockjaw which had attacked 
the boy. For this we had no serum in camp and 
were hundreds of miles from any surgeons. What 
worried me most was that the kerosene lamp the boys 
had lit gave out, for me, only the faintest and 
dimmest of glows. Outside of its little circle, which 
revealed no objects to me, the rest was utter darkness. 

At last I heard voices and steps—then a very 
familiar voice—Osa’s. She had heard the report of 
the eight times double charge of the flash cartridges, 
back in the woods, but at first thought it thunder. 
Then, seeing the stars through the trees, she had 
become worried and hastened with Ndundu back to 
camp. | 

There she had met the boys with scared faces, 
crying, “Bwana has had most awful accident.”’ 
Perhaps she expected to see me dead; anyway, I must 
have been a horrifying sight to a white woman. 
They told me afterwards that I was black from head 
to foot and all blisters, the seared flesh showing even 
through the great burns in my clothes. 

Poor Osa came running into my room, nearly in 
hysterics. The first thing she asked me was: “Can 


284 SAFARI 


you see?”’ I said, ‘‘Yes.’’ But she didn’t believe 
me; she held up two fingers and asked me what she 
was doing. It was lucky she held them up so they 
were silhouetted against the light, as I could barely 
make out her hand, and that with one eye only. 

She then proceeded to take off all the unguentine 
with which I had had the boys smear me. Assisted 
by the boys and John Wilshusen, who was with us, 
she worked over me until after midnight, using 
permanganate of potash. After they had cleaned 
my skin as much as possible of the powder, they put 
unguentine on again. By that time the burns were 
beginning to pain ful] force. There is no use going 
into details. In three days I could see a little out of 
my right eye, but not out of the left for two weeks 
more. It was only through Osa’s nursing that I 
escaped the fate of the black who had died from ~ 
lockjaw. 

I recall the first day I could sit up in bed. I asked 
for a mirror. Goodness what a shock I got when I 
looked at myself! My nose had been knocked off to 
one side out of true. My left ear looked like a piece 
of cauliflower. I hadn’t a hair left on my head; 
eyebrows and eyelashes gone. But worst of all my 
entire head down to my neck was black with the pow- 
der that had penetrated the skin. I had heard of 
miners being disfigured for life this way; and decided 
that the same thing had become my fate. But aftera 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 285 


few weeks the skin came off, the black with it, and 
now I have practically no marks left. 

The other misfortune to which I refer was the 
death of our little Kalowatt, the ape whom we loved 
like a child. It happened when we went down to 
Nairobi to meet the Eastman-Pomeroy party. 

No one ever had a nicer pet than this little ape, 
which was just a ball of fluff, little larger than a 
man’s fist. She was more intelligent than any 
other animal I have ever seen. She was affectionate, 
and loved everybody that knew her. She had 
travelled all over the world with us and was the only 
animal that I have seen that could laugh. Once I 
had been offered two thousand dollars for her; but I 
would not have taken two million. 

I was in the Norfolk Hotel at Nairobi and had just 
gone out into the lobby to talk with Philip Percival 
who was also waiting the Eastman party to act as 
big game hunter. While sitting there I suddenly 
saw Osa running towards me. 

‘“‘Kalowatt has got out of our room and is on the 
roof!’’ she exclaimed. 

Now Kalowatt as a rule would obey our commands. 
But I suppose she had been cramped up in our room 
so long that she welcomed the opportunity to stretch 
her legs. 

As I was busy, I didn’t go out, but let Osa see what 
she could do to overtake the little rascal. Kalowatt 


286 SAFARI 


ran across the roof, jumped into the trees in front of 
the hotel and played about with a large audience of 


natives looking on. She always loved a crowd before — 


which she could show off. From where I sat I 
watched her for a while and thought there was no 
danger of her running away. Finally she left the 
trees, jumped on the roof again and ran across the 
building to the back of the hotel out of my sight, 
Osa following. 

In a few minutes Osa came dashing back. “My 
God!” she cried. “I have just seen Kalowatt 
electrocuted. She jumped on two live wires on the 
side of the hotel. I saw a puff of smoke. Then she 
hung limp to the wires.’’ At this Osa fainted. I 
left her with Percival. 

I rushed out and saw Kalowatt hanging there, still 


gripped to the wires about fifteen feet above the 


alley. A large crowd of gaping natives stood 
around, some of them grinning. I simply went 
crazy when I saw'this, and crazier than ever when 
one of the blacks broke out laughing. Losing all 
semblance of control, I waded into the mob and 
knocked the negroes right and left. While I was 
doing this a doctor who was staying at the hotel came 
out to see what was wrong. I knocked him down too. 
The cook came out carrying a bucketful of water; I 
knocked him down. 

I went back to the hotel. Osa had been carried 


, 20 ae ee eee et a 


ee Fen a Ee g 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 287 


to our rooms. I found her sobbing her heart out on 
the bed. I walked up and down the room unable to 
believe it was true that we had lost our little 
companion. 

Meanwhile Percival had telephoned the electric 
light company to have the power turned off. A boy 
climbed the telegraph pole and got the little dead 
body down. I went out and wrapped what was left 
of Kalowatt in a blanket and brought her into our 
room and placed her in the little cage that we had 
always carried her in. This cage was very small. I 
had spent a lot of money getting a bigger cage made, 
but Kalowatt never liked anything except this little 
one. 

There followed a night of grief for Osa and me. 
Near midnight we couldn’t stand it any longer. We 
went out and got one of our motor cars and drove 
way out on the Athi plains, got out and walked up 
and down until daylight. At dawn we went back to 
the hotel, took Kalowatt’s cleanest blankets which 
had just been washed, and wrapped her up in them. 
Then I went out and bought a tin rubber-lined 
officer’s dress case. We put the body in this and 
placed it on the back seat of our motor. It was a 
peculiar fact that the African boys who had been 
with me did not show up that morning. Despite 
the fact that the blacks are supposed to be almost 
without feeling, they didn’t want to come up and see 


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288 


the dead body of Ralowatt; ‘whom ies had ae ro a 
for so long and so happily. I think ee loved y ee 
almost as much as we did. 4 ae 
We mustered two or three Nairobi boys ae dee . 
ten miles out into the country to a forest reserve | ‘e 
that was not likely to be touched by man for many . 
years. We selected a site under a large tree, and 
the boys dug a six-foot grave. We placed Kalowatt 
in it, and beside her the cage that had been her home. 
We now went back to Lake Paradise for our last 
visit. There were loose ends to tie and a last peg 


elephants had been such that we all felt reasonab; 
satisfied with the film we had got. So we decided _ 
return to America with what we had. ve 


that on a certain day we would hold a sale of 0 | 
goods that we e did not need to take home with ¢ 


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THE END OF THE TRAIL 289 


buckets, boxes, riffraff of tools, old knives that had 
accumulated and various other kinds of material. 
It was all auctioned off with a total return of over 
six hundred shillings for which cash was paid. 

My assistant, John Wilshusen, helped us get away 
some days later. I’d like to say here that John 
was one of the most satisfactory safari companions 
I’ve ever had. He was a wonderful mechanic and 
could fix anything from a watch to a threshing mach- 
ine. He was an old flying man, having been to South 
America with the Hamilton Rice expedition. He 
was a great lad to speed; he figured he was standing 
still if he was making less than sixty miles an hour 
on a fair road. He even surprised George Blowers, 
who had hitherto been the speed king of Nairobi. 
When he saw John whisking around in our fine 
Willys-Knights he told me I’d better get the lad out 
on the Athi Plains as life was no longer safe in 
Nairobi. 

We set out a week behind the wagons we had sent 
ahead with some of our stuff. We crossed the Kai- 
soot Desert as fast as the cars would travel. Cer- 
tainly if any cars ever had a test, ours did, between 
rocks and mud and grades. 

In Meru we got word of Carl Akeley’s death. 
This was a big shock because Carl spoke our language 
and was one of the finest men that ever lived. His 
versatility had always astonished me. He was a 


290 SAFARI 


sculptor, inventor of the famous Akeley camera, a 
splendid photographer, and the father of a new 
system of taxidermy that is now being used through- 
out the world. 

At Nairobi we set out to find ourselves a house that 
could be our home in the future. We had definitely 
decided to make Africa our permanent residence 
henceforth, and visit America only as occasion 
demanded. It was primarily through the generosity 
of Mr. Daniel Pomeroy of New York that this dream 
of ours could come true. As our object from now on 
through the rest of our lives is to make a true pictorial 
history of the different kinds of African wild animals, 
and since Nairobi is the logical center to work from, 
we felt that we have chosen the proper location for 
our home. 

For the first time in our married life Osa and I 
now have a home that is really our own. Up to this 
time Lake Paradise had been our refuge and it had 
given us many happy years. But of it Osa used to 
say, laughingly, that when I married her I promised 
her a palace, and the nearest she ever got to it was a 
mudhouse. 

We have four acres of ground, a fine orchard of 
fruit trees, pears, apples, peaches, plums, all growing 
beside oranges, mandarins, lemons, limes, and other 
kinds of tropical and sub-tropical fruits. One of the 
first things Osa did was to plant a fine strawberry bed. 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 291 


On the land we erected a stone walled laboratory 
with tiled roof. I installed the best filters and tanks 
I could buy. I lined the whole place with tile so that 
I could have my boys take the hose and scrub the in- 
side as wellas out. The main house has eight rooms, 
running hot and cold water in several of them; large 
tiled bathroom; a fine kitchen with electric light and 
ice machine equipment, bringing it all up to date. 

The place is situated four miles outside of Nairobi. 
To the south we can see Mt. Kilimanjaro with its 
snow-covered peak springing up from the level plains. 
To the north Mt. Kenya stands sentinel over the 
hunting preserve we know so well. Wild animals 
come into our garden every night. The house stands 
well back from the road with an attractive drive 
curving up to it through special landscape gardening 
put in by an English expert. As we have room for 
seven cars we can take care of a moderate sized 
expedition coming out from America. 

We remained in Nairobi for about ten days getting 
settled and tying up loose ends after our years of 
dashing about the country. One pleasant little 
jaunt came when we took a trip up to the Lumbwa 
country, about one hundred seventy miles up the 
railway toward Lake Victoria Nyanza. We had 
heard of some very primitive natives that Ihad wanted 
to see, and I was anxious to have a look around 
in that direction for my next spell of African work. 


292 SAFARI 


We chartered a little four-wheel two compart- 
ment coach and travelled direct to the Lumbwa 
station, asmall isolated outpost. There we remained 
for two weeks photographing this strange group of 
humans and learning something about their native 
habits. We had first become interested in them 
when we had seen their wonderful lion spearing down 
in Tanganyika, which I have already described. 

We journeyed back to Nairobi again in our “priv- 
ate car.’”’ I shall never forget the ride. In small 
towns in our own middle west I have seen antique 
railway cars that somewhat resembled this one. It 
was impossible for us to sleep in it, as its vertical 
motion was alone almost as great as that of an ocean 
liner in a storm. 

We remained in Nairobi this time about three 
weeks longer. Somehow the closer we got to the end 
the harder it was to tear ourselves away. Thus has 
it always been on our journeys to the ends of the 
earth. I remember Dana speaking of the same thing 
at the finish of his Two Years Before the Mast. He 
relates how he got back to Boston after that hard 
voyage and found himself moved to stay aboard 
instead of dashing home to luxury. 

We went down to Mombasa on the train and put 
up for a day or two waiting for the boat that was to 
take us to northern latitudes again. We were 
pleased to find that our ship was to be the Bernardin 


Cull ~ 
te. i. a ‘ 
at ee oe ae eee 


THE END OF THE TRAIL 293 


Saint Prerre, a new fifteen thousand ton steamer of 
the Messageri Maritime Line. She took sixteen 
days en route to Marseilles, proving one of the most 
comfortable and luxurious vessels on which I have 
ever travelled. 

Thence our trail led to Paris where Osa spent the 
few remaining dollars in our bank account on Paris 
gowns. As she had not had anything pretty for 
many a moon she naturally revelled in the fineries of 
that wonderful city. She even persuaded me to join 
her on some of her shopping tours. 

After Osa’s dressmakers and milliners had been 
settled I just barely had enough cash left to buy two 
tickets on the Leviathan bound home. We reached 
New York on May 16, 1927. For six months we 
have endured the horrors of traffic, telephones, 
telegraphs, carbon dioxide, banquets, week-end 
parties, boiled shirts, poisonous cocktails, suburban 
trains and a thousand other tormenting details of 
civilization. 

We have survived, thanks I think, to the health 
and strength we had gained during our long sojourn 
in Africa. But when December approached we 
secretly decided to give each other what seemed at the 
time the nicest Christmas presents in the world. 
These presents didn’t take up much room; in fact 
the two of them were small enough to slip into my 
waistcoat pocket. When Osa saw them she threw 


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NH 32 J68 $12 1928 BKS 


G; 7 Johnson, Martin, 188 
Safari; a saga of the African blue, 


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